5 Cups of Chamomile Tea
by sasannisa
Summary: (AU) When five days of sleepless nights drew them together.
1. Rendezvous

**I'm sorry for not writing for so long. I was so busy with school work, I even forgot about December 2012 being Zutara month! So here's a fic for you guys. My friend gave me the inspiration therefore I dedicate this story to him. And credits for hihazuki, my beloved beta reader, for the awesome revision. (You've got to check out her stories, they're uh-mazing) Enjoy!**

** Disclaimer: I don't own ATLA.**

**Chapter 1 - Rendezvous**

His eyes wandered the whole room. The chamber was pitch black, the dark edges on each corner emphasizing the night's presence and the few hours left until dawn. It reminded him of his impending need to sleep. Gazing at the ceiling, he took in the basking glow of the moonlight creeping in through the satin white curtains of the hotel room that billowed softly above him.

After a short while, he began to lose interest. Not feeling drowsy in the slightest, he tossed and turned and groaned and sighed. Yet none of these things helped him find his way to the slumber he so long desired.

He reached toward the side table and fumbled blindly for his watch.

_01:47_, he read silently, letting the watch slip through his fingers and land next to his pillow. _Great, now how am I going to wake up in time for the meeting tomorrow morning? At such an ungodly hour, no less. _He sighed dejectedly.

He had to admit; his sleeping schedule was messed up. No matter how many times he flew back and forth to Ba Sing Se, he always had to deal with his most loyal companion; insomnia. Damn jet lags and the blasted time difference.

He face-palmed and proceeded to hold himself up with an elbow, his hand buried in his tousled hair. It was his authentic pose that he always assumed when he was engaging in deep thought. Yes, retrospection was good. The more he reflected on past events, the more liable he was to falling asleep. Hopefully. He couldn't understand the logic in that, but it just was.

So he let his mind roam. He explored his keepsakes, mnemonic experiences, and nostalgic memorabilia. He racked his befuddled head for topics he could indulge in with hopes he would drift off eventually. The heavier the topic, the better. It would be too much for his brain to handle and it would shut down. Business? There was nothing related to business matters that he could dwell on. Yet. Counting sheep? That was old and ineffective. Whoever said that counting sheep would make you sleep had no validity whatsoever. He could never reach even just a hundred without breaking off in frustration.

His mind slowly floated to his uncle. His wise, prudential uncle, whom he looked up to. Whose words constantly bestowed enlightenment to all of his unanswered questions. What was going on in that discerning head of his? What would he be thinking about? Obviously he would think of jasmine tea, claiming how the aforementioned beverage never failed to lull him to slumber.

But he didn't like jasmine tea. What then? He frowned to himself. Wait. He remembered having this talk with Iroh before.

_But scented tea calms your nerves__._His uncle remarked when he avidly expressed his distaste for tea scented with dried jasmine blossoms. _**As they say, tea has natural fragrance, entered as an imperial tribute item; to which a tiny amount of borneo camphor is added; in order to change its fragrance.**_

He would launch into one of his trademark philosophical insights that never ceased to bore the active, young boy. He yawned. _What mom normally makes me; chamomile with two spoons of honey. No more, no less. _His younger self declared in self-satisfaction.

_**Why is it your favorite?**_

_Because it soothes me, relaxes me._

_And why does it specifically relaxes you?_

_Because it tastes just like her; sweet and compassionate. Every time I drink it, it makes me feel like I'm in her embrace._What happened right after that left a bittersweet pang in his heart. How his mother, upon hearing his innocent answer, reached for him and wrapped her warm arms around him, bringing him close to her warmth and heat.

He felt his throat hitch as he felt a single teardrop roll down his sensitive, scarred cheek and merge into the fabric of the pillow. _Shit_, he cursed inwardly. _What a splendid way to fall asleep. Now I'm even more awake, and that won't do. Why? Why did I have to remember her? Anything but her...please..._

Waves of mixed emotions crashed over him, teardrops slowly building into steady streams of liquid, a sob beginning to choke out of him. He couldn't stop it. He can't. The flood gate to his carefully guarded emotions were broken down like toy bricks the minute his mother came to mind.

He shifted to the side and buried his head as deeply as he could into the already drenched pillow, muffling his hiccups and cries, wishing that sleep would spare him and take him already.

But it didn't. The tears did nothing to make him feel drowsy in the slightest. It only made his longing for his mother even worse, the gap in his chest growing forcefully wider every second. His mother, and her delicious tea.

He craved for chamomile tea. Never mind if it wasn't made by his mother, he needed it to sleep. Although, it wasn't entirely false to say that he also wanted it partially to soothe the ache in his heart, to feed it with something familiar.

And so he decided.

Disgruntled, he got up and switched on the lights, blinding him for a few seconds. He had adjusted with the darkness too much that he wasn't ready for the burst of light that greeted him instantaneously. He scowled and trudged off to the bathroom to change.

The splash of cool water on his face felt refreshing. It completely wiped away the smudge and greasiness from his crying and heaviness. Staring at himself for a few seconds in the mirror, he briefly wondered if he really was looking at himself, and not someone else. The lack of sleep and crying truly altered his physical form.

Not caring less for his wildly matted, unkempt hair, he walked out of the bathroom and stepped into his jeans and favorite maroon sweater that was a little rugged around the edges, but comfortable all the same. He slipped into his sneakers and strode out of his room, not forgetting to take his card key along with him.

He went for the stairs and slid down on the banister, swung expertly on every turn, deeming that it was quicker and better. He couldn't wait to get outside and clear up his mind.

The night was silent as he went through the exit. A light breeze brushed over him and he inhaled deeply, appreciating the distinct essence of Ba Sing Se that it brought along.

He let his feet lead him to where he wanted-no, _needed_to be. He went through this route so many times that he didn't even need to think about where he should go; it was already memorized by his body. He weaved through back alleys and shortcuts until he reached a single shop distinguished from all the rest. Situated a little ways from the hotel he occupied, the tea shop radiated warmth and snugness, with a fragrance constantly drifting about that he became very accustomed with. The idiosyncratic aroma of his uncle, Jasmine Dragon, who also happened to run the emporium.

He smiled at the thought. His uncle was nothing short of resolute. Especially when it came to managing his business involving his métier. He was brought back to the times when they would work together in a small, run-down tea shop, where they only provided for the local community. Although their range of consumers were small, their profit was steady. They were doing what they had a passion for so long; infusing and brewing tea. Much to their surprise, fortuity came along the way. A wealthy businessman who was coincidentally in the area stopped by and offered them an expansion contract that allowed a broader range of consumers and augmenting their relatively closed business to the entirety of the Earth Kingdom. It seemed too good to be true; he couldn't help but break into a fit of laughter at the priceless expression his uncle conveyed to the offer. But he was happy. Happy that his uncle's long-standing dream would finally come true. All his efforts would bear fruit.

True enough, due to the generosity of the businessman, his uncle's business opened paths and opportunities like never before. He became more polished in technique and rose dramatically in profit, thus becoming a huge success. He was so much of a _tour de force_ that none of his shops ever closed. He was open 24 hours daily to cater to the endless flow of customers.

Having the opportunity to open a tea shop here, in a city well-known for its love of herbs, was indeed very fortunate. And now here he was, in front of the reknowned building, where his uncle would most likely be inside, brewing his favorite recipes.

He inhaled softly before stepping inside the cozy shop, and was immediately greeted by a gentle tinkling of the bells by the entrance. Warm air gushed over him the second he stepped inside, eyes closed briefly.

Blinking, he captured the faint scents of assorted herbs aligned on the shelves that made up half of the room. Only inhaling the exotic fragrances mingling in the atmosphere made him feel right at home.

As usual, customers crowded the space the rather circumscribed shop provided. It was less spacious than his generally large and lavish house in the Fire Nation.

Weaving his way through the throng of people, he headed towards the table he usually occupied, one next to the second window on the left-hand side of the shop, but paused when he saw, much to his surprise, that a woman was occupying it.

She had her back faced to him, long auburn hair falling to her shoulders. Something gripped inside him, and he pursed his lips. He had nearly mistaken the woman for his mother. What made her different was that her locks were wavier, unlike Ursa's.

Pushing down a strange desire to run to her and curl his arms around her shoulders, he turned to another table diagonal to where she was and sat down, intending to observe this woman from head to toe, to ensure that she was indeed not his late beloved mother. Not many people could resemble his mother, after all. She was a rare case.

He hadn't realized that the longer he was staring at her, the more his head moved to her, albeit it was vague. He nearly jumped when the woman suddenly spoke up. "I can feel you staring, you know."

Making sure she wasn't talking to someone else, he looked sideways frantically before he managed to stutter out, "Um, who? You mean me?" A trace of guilt was laced in his tone.

Smiling, she looked over her shoulders at him. A smile so endearing and charming, full of compassion, it made his heart jolt.

So painfully like his mother's smile.

Yet hers had a distinct quality to it, a mesmerizing, heart-stopping smile. The kind that could make you forget you were even breathing, like time stopped in that infinitesimal moment.

He didn't realize it when she started talking. "Yeah, you. The one who's been staring at me in the last ten minutes." He quickly caught his breath as her voice snapped him back to reality.

Scratching his head and face downcast sheepishly, he replied. "Ah, sorry. It's just that...you kind of remind me of someone I used to know..."

If she was curious, she didn't show it. "Oh, well that's fine, really. What are you doing here alone in the middle of the night?"

"Just insomnia, I guess. Kind of looking for some fresh air too. I assume you're waiting for someone?"

Laughing lightly, she shook her head. "No, no. I just wandered here by accident. I'm a newcomer here, and I'm trying to get used to being in this town. I heard the tea served here is pretty good."

"Oh, it's not just _good_." He smirked, shifting to face her fully. "It's off the charts. You just can't find the right word to describe how positively transcendent the tea here is. I assure you; not a single customer has ever -and will ever- walk out of this place unsated."

Her laugh was magical. "I see. Since you seem to know so much about the beverages served here, I'm guessing you're a regular?"

"Not really. I try to come here as often as I can when I'm in town, though. And when I do, that's where I usually sit." He gestured in her direction.

"Oh! Um..." She looked lost, glancing from him to the table.

"Eh, but don't worry! You don't have to move!" He replied hastily when he noticed her starting to move. "Besides, it's not like the table's mine. Just stay there, it's totally fine."

"Okay..." She said thoughtfully before patting a spot on her table. "Then why don't you join me?"

"No, I'm alright here."

"Oh, c'mon. I could use someone who's acquainted with this strange new town to enlighten me." She insisted, that alluring smile still stuck on her face. "What's the harm in getting to know each other? Please, be my guest. Unless you have a certain aversion to-"

"If you insist!" He cut in, ears slightly red, and quite loudly got up from his chair.

"Nephew!" A voice suddenly bellowed out from across the room. Before he could turn around and spot the caller, he was enveloped in a gigantic, suffocating bear hug.

"H-hey, Un-uncle…," he stuttered against the pressure and struggled to release his uncle's iron grip. "How-how are you...U-uncle Iroh...?"

Iroh chuckled heartily as he mercifully loosened his grasp. "I'm doing just magnificent! Fancy meeting you here!" It was then he noticed the mocha-skinned girl behind the boy, and raised an eyebrow. "Have you returned to continue your passion of tea-making...or a beautiful young lady such as this one?" He gestured to the blushing woman.

"Uncle!" He cried out, cheeks noticeably burning. "I am not!"

"Unfortunately Uncle, we've just acquainted ourselves," she smiled. "I don't think we'd have gone that far yet."

"Oh, well, that's too bad! I guess I'll go make your favorite now. That new waiter must have forgotten to fill in your order. Ho Jin!" He shouted, waving a hand at a teenage boy around eighteen in a green outfit that seemed to be the shop's uniform as he stalked away.

After a moment's silence, with the pair looking back at the elder as he left, the young man laughed nervously while hesitantly pulling out a chair slowly, his other hand scratching the back of his head meekly. "So sorry about that. He can be so...accommodating sometimes."

She laughed that wonderful laugh of hers. The thing was, it never got old. It was like music to his ears. "No, honestly! I thought that was really sweet."

"...If you say so."

"So you're his nephew, huh?"

He nodded.

"Then you must be Zuko!" She exclaimed with a peculiar hint of eagerness and quickly responded to his surprised expression at his slight popularity. She then folded her arms on her chest, leaning back against the chair, her eyes staring at him knowingly. "I keep hearing a lot about you."

"Oh my god!" He said, frustration clearly indicated in his tone. "He really needs to stop rambling on about me!"

Again, the heavenly tune. "You're even as grumpy as he said you'd be!"

He felt like flinging his shoe at a wall -or even better, _someone_'s head. "What else did he tell you about me?"

"Oh! Well..." She lightly tapped her chin and pointed her gaze upward in thought. "He did say you were his favorite nephew...and that you're a CEO of the most substantial company in the Fire Nation."

He bit the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from grinning. He couldn't help it. He would usually be bothered about how his Uncle would spread their personal life story to everyone, especially him. Yet oddly this time, instead of feeling irritated beyond measure, he didn't mind. Deep in his heart, to be honest, he felt a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Confusion racked his entire mind. For what reason did he feel this way? Was it this girl? What kind of power did this girl have over him that made him feel this way? This unwanted knot in his chest? The feeling that he wanted her to actually know more about him, and him about her? Was it just because of her physical resemblance to his late mother? Or was it something else?

At a complete loss for words, he could only gaze up and catch her unwavering gaze -the bluest pool of orbs he had ever seen below the flickering delicate lashes that completed her eyes, making them look shaded, calm, hypnotizing. The twinkle in her eyes that never belied her genuine feelings. And her wavy, soft locks that framed her heart-shaped face perfectly, almost like he could reach out and touch them, letting the strands glide over his fingers...stunning.

He was barely able to tear his gaze away from her when his uncle patted his shoulder, awakening him from his prolonged trance.

"Your chamomile tea, Zuko?" The elderly man offered with a knowing smile.

He blinked rapidly at him before settling himself down on the table rather awkwardly. "Oh, ah...thank you, Uncle." _For saving me in time and preventing myself from making a completely lovesick fool out of myself._

He nodded sagely, as if understanding his thoughts as well. "You are always very welcome. And you, Miss?" He turned to the seated lady. "Would you care for a refill?"

Glancing downwards, she smiled warmly at him. "Certainly. You have my gratitude." He lifted a teapot from his tray upon hearing her approval and poured a ginger-scented tea into her empty cup, heat going up in brilliant puffs of clouds.

"Nephew, how long will you be staying this time?"

"Until Friday," He answered casually while taking a sip of his own tea, having regained his composure. "Father sent me here to establish and finalize connections with a company we have signed a contract with."

"I see." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "So I take it you'll be branching out to Ba Sing Se?"

"If all goes well, then yes."

"Well then. That's all I need to know for today." He remarked as he headed back to where he came from. "Let me know if you need anything now, okay? And don't worry, I already reserved that table for the two of you for the next five days!" He said with a small wink before disappearing behind the counter and into the kitchen.

Easing the tension, Zuko turned back to her and cleared his throat reluctantly. "Okay... So now you know me. Would you give me the pleasure of getting to know you as well, Miss...?"

Her laugh rang in his ears like the best tune he had ever heard. "I thought you'd never ask!" She held out a hand. "I'm Katara."


	2. Similarities

**Chapter 2 - Similarities**

**I'm very sorry for the super-duper-mega-uber late update. Thank god, my finest beta reader **_**hihazuki**_** managed to send the document back on time! (Thank you so so so soooo much!)**

**Speaking of whom, for you guys who haven't read her fictions yet, you seriously ought to. Otherwise you're forbidden to read this story. (Definitely kidding. Please do read, I beg of you!)**

**I hope you still want to read the second chapter, so there you go! Enjoy :D**

**Disclaimer: Own it. Not.**

Zuko slammed his fist repetitively on the table, drawing attention from the entire shop. Ignoring the looks and whispers that started to surface from his outburst, he continued pounding relentlessly, not caring less about the inconvenience he was causing. It was only then he stopped when he realized the cup of tea that spilled -more than half of its content- all over the table and dripped onto his _Armani_pants.

With a scowl, he stood up and roughly snatched what seemed like a 5 dozen sheets of tissue paper and dabbed it angrily at the stained spot on his lap, only to widen the blotch on the silky cashmere fabric. He cursed halfheartedly; those pants were new. But much more significant things were at stake. Not long after, a panic-stricken waitress rushed up and hurriedly proceeded to clean the table, making a point not to look his way as she did so.

It was then he realized the trouble he had caused and glanced around at the paralyzed eyes looking back at him in a mixture of fear and curiosity. Aggravated, he stormed outside, cell phone attached to his ear as he continued the source of all his fury in a barely contained, sharp tone of chagrin.

"I don't want to hear any of your petty excuses! We had an agreement, and I expect you to abide to it, like professional businessmen! Bottom line is, you will be paying your debt to the bank in two weeks time. Otherwise, I am afraid the company will be out of your hands. You should be grateful that I'm the one signing the deal and not my father, or he'd have you good-for-nothing fools sued at a moment's notice! As a matter of fact, that will be the course of action I have no choice but to take if you don't fix this whole _shitty_mess in the extended time allotment. So whatever excuses you have to offer will be none of my concern!" He yelled, losing all composure midway and slammed his phone shut, punching the same fist at the moss-colored wall with a sickening crack. He hardly felt the pinch of pain blooming in his knuckles; too consumed by his rage to bother pulling away. He didn't care if his phone consequently got crushed -he could always easily buy a new one. Hell, he didn't care much about anything other than the frustration that nagged at him for several days.

Feeling the fight draining out of him, he fell back against the wall, his shoulders slumping from the toll of his burdens, both spoken and unspoken, his other hand sliding up to hover the left half of his face, which emitted a dull, phantom throb of his scar. He sighed deeply, not realizing he'd been holding his breath, and began to remember its origins. Failing this mission was intolerable. Floundering it this time would earn him another delightful scarring on his face. His father would not be proud, and he would shame himself as one posing to be the company's successor.

"_Agni_, be with me." He prayed solemnly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. The pressure was extracting too much on him lately, and he began to lose control much more frequently. _Patience, Zuko. To lead a company, you must retain forbearance,_the familiar voice of his uncle echoed meaningfully in his ears.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down and regain serenity. He managed to count to five before sensing his uncle standing two feet away from him and opened his eyes reluctantly, half-expecting the reaction he was expecting. Sure enough, the old man's intense stare incited him to cower in mortification. He need not say anything, but that was more than enough to tame the young man, for the man in question adored the old parent figure that much. He couldn't bear to worry him. Beneath the agonizing scrutiny, he couldn't help but look away guiltily.

"Nephew, what's wrong? I heard quite the uproar in there, and one of the waitresses-" He began, stepping closer.

Zuko shook his head rapidly, still not looking at the concerned elder. "Nothing. Nothing happened. I'm perfectly fine."

He was obviously skeptic, but did not pursue the topic any longer. "Well, whatever it is you're going through, you might want to consider where you let off steam. The customers seem quite disconcerted by your sudden display of... _incoherence_." He raised an eyebrow at the last word.

His cheeks burned as his gaze dropped to the floor. He couldn't feel more ashamed than this. "R-right. My deepest apologies, Uncle. It won't happen again."

"I know there's something you're not telling me, _son_. Why don't you try talking to this trusty old man? He might be able to offer you some advice, or an ear, at least."

"It's... really nothing. Just some trouble I ran into at work. I don't want to inconvenience you any longer. I should leave." He spoke quietly as he made way to leave, but was stopped by his Uncle, a frown replacing his concerned look.

"_Leave_? You haven't even tasted your tea yet! You're coming right back in." His wrinkled hand grabbed his wrist firmly, hauling him back into the shop and sitting the immensely reluctant young man back in his seat. His table was now tidy, donning a new tablecloth and coaster, and the atmosphere returned to its former comfortable breeziness, yet a few still spared a confused glance at him, to which he avoided uneasily.

His Uncle continued, seemingly unaware of his nephew's growing apprehension. "You know how I feel about wasted beverages. Stay right here, I'm going to go get you a new one. That'll teach you not to waste ingredients next time." He left to the pantry, waving his hands to the few customers who still snuck glances -apparently he did notice- and effectively telling them there was nothing to look at.

As his uncle disappeared behind the green flaps separating the kitchen and room, he rested his elbows on the table, leaning forward and massaged his now throbbing temples. The flutter of pain tingling on his knuckle finally became palpable, and he gritted his teeth as he swallowed a groan.

Inwardly, he wished nothing more than to divert his mind from the depressing nature of business and think of something more interesting. Eventually, he came across a rough patch of skin he didn't realize he was also massaging, and it wasn't much later until he realized he was rubbing his scar.

The effect was immediate. All of a sudden, the voices around him faded entirely, leaving him in complete prey to his own mind. The feeling rushed back, that horrible feeling he wanted more than ever to dispose of. He knew what was coming next.

Slowly, another familiar voice rang sweetly, yet urgently in his ears.

"_Listen to me, okay, sweetie? Everything will be alright._"

He hissed. The memory was overtaking him again, and he was vulnerable to it, as he had always been every time it chose to embrace him.

"_Go, Zuko! Take your sister with you!_"

A pool of tears started forming underneath his closed eyelids. He was reliving the nightmare all over again. It was appalling; how he wished he could rewind time all over again if he knew this was going to happen.

"_Don't look back. Don't worry, I'll be right behind you."_

Lies. He never ceased to loathe adults' nature to lie to their kin. It hurt them. It made him put false hope in what was not meant to be. He loathed himself for putting his belief in her so easily. Otherwise, it wouldn't have turned out the way it had. It was all his fault, his naïveté. He was to blame.

He let his head fall to the table, face down, trembling fingers clawing at his face in a frenzy. A deep pain stored within the confines of his chest reemerged, reclaiming him. He felt like living in a sinful shadow. He couldn't face himself. He didn't deserve to live after the crime he felt he committed. Death would be the only mercy to him now. So he could at least meet her again, apologize profusely, plead for her forgiveness.

Escaping the prison of his mind by the merciful embrace of death seemed to be the only thing appealing to him at the moment as he fumbled his way for a knife -anything sharp he could find, basically- on the table.

He was pretty sure he'd have done it there and then if she wasn't there, just _there_, all of a sudden. Right across from him, leaning back, those glistening orbs looking outside the window, an unpleasant look etched oddly on her delicate face. Yet, she still managed to look..._stunning_.

He lay there, his notion of suicide abandoned and forgotten, his eyes only for her.

His uncle filled the silence as he served up an order, placing the empty cup on the table and expertly, swiftly tilting the kettle in his hands so the contents filled up quickly.

"You're here quite early today, Miss Katara. Would you like to order now?" Iroh asked pleasantly, handing out the menu with a mysterious smile on his face. At the same time, her mobile phone rang, and she nodded at him regretfully, her hand gestured at him apologetically as she held the ringing phone in hand. "Leechi, please. Excuse me." Not bothering to consider the menu, she stood up, and in a similarly convincing fashion to Zuko's previous outburst, stormed her way out of the shop, a less than happy expression on her face.

He thoughtfully eyed the purse she left behind on her chair. Not long after, a sharp tone in crescendo was heard from the front porch.

His uncle couldn't help but hold back a chuckle. "It seems we have another troubled individual here." Patting Zuko's shoulder, he returned back to where he came from.

The young successor honestly didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he couldn't very well ignore the despair and frustration in her voice and he automatically tuned in. Besides, he couldn't help but notice she had a shrill voice akin to that of a banshee when she was enraged, but he knew better than to tell her that, unless he would be better off forfeiting his life. Rather fortunately, he only caught a few words such as '_blew', 'you should have', 'screw you'_, and other colorful vocabulary he didn't know she had the capacity to say.

Before he could ponder, he heard her sob, and her voice dulled to a hum he couldn't make out. Concern overtook his thoughts, and he had half a mind to go after her and give her the comfort she needed, but he thought better of it.

_It would be terribly inappropriate,_he cringed to himself. _Awkward, and I'd be poking my nose in where it doesn't belong._

He gripped the corners of his table, resisting the strong urge of his feet to take him to her. He loosened his grip when he saw her walk back into the shop and to their table. Once she lifted her head to meet his gaze, he looked down at his cooling tea and stirred, pretending like nothing happened.

She cleared her throat as she let herself collapse on the chair, and he felt slight alarm. Taking off her coat and draping it behind her, she let her hair cascade over her face, blocking her features. Yet, for some reason, he still didn't look away. He couldn't.

Iroh came back to serve her leechi tea, smiling at her warmly, sneaking a cold eye through his peripheral vision at Zuko -who only looked at him nonchalantly- and left without a word.

They remained in silence.

"If I tell you what's wrong, will you stop staring?" She finally spoke as she lifted the cup to her mouth, sending a disapproving glare at him as she did it. "Unless you have noticed, it's starting to get on my nerves."

Zuko shrugged, not feeling threatened by her condemning stare. In fact, he seemed to take a liking to her enchanting azure orbs glued to his own, monochromatic golden hues. It made him think how perfectly balanced it made his look; how it harmonized with his. "Whatever makes you feel better."

A long sigh escaped from her lips and she took another sip of her tea. But nothing came out of her mouth. Silence. Another sip. The silence still continued.

He almost gave up and opened his mouth to end the awkward silence and divert her attention to something else, right before she spoke, after her fifth refill.

What she said was the least he had been expecting. "I'm having a problem with my boyfriend."

Just a single sentence, and he felt his entire world crumbling. Vaguely, he wondered if he could have possibly heard wrong. She was speaking a little too quietly for his taste. But his mind told him otherwise. Out of the million possible reasons why she could be so upset, it just had to be that one. He wasn't even expecting it in the slightest. He always thought...he had just assumed...

His mind shattered into a thousand little pieces.

_Boyfriend_. The word felt like it was capable of becoming his apocalypse.

He felt like being struck over by a lightning bolt, over and over again, striking him down, down, and down. But who was he to feel that way? He couldn't have actually thought a girl as breathtaking as her wasn't taken already. And since when did he feel that sort of attraction to her? They had only just met. They were two completely different strangers with only one thing in common; the tea shop they most commonly frequented. That was all.

He had no right to feel that sudden, overwhelming urge to hunt down that insensitive bastard of her boyfriend and kill him a thousand times for making her cry like that.

"Today's our two-year anniversary, and we were supposed to have dinner together earlier this evening. Which is why I'm looking a little different today." She motioned towards her outfit; a strapless beryl gown that brought out her eyes, refined with a gingerly, billowing fishtail skirt that aired the ethereal colors of the sea, and accentuated with a radiant jewel embedded at her hip, bringing light to her soft curves. He didn't notice when she came; he was too preoccupied with her worrying countenance. But now that he had a closer look, _Agni_, she looked absolutely gorgeous.

"My father is in town too, so I thought of inviting him along. It would be the ideal opportunity to introduce them to each other since he's rarely home -he works as a mariner on the seas. It's a really important first step since then we could show him that we're actually serious about this relationship and that hopefully we can move on to the next level smoothly as soon as we have his consent. I was thinking by then that the idea of marriage wouldn't be so far over the horizon." She paused to take another sip.

"Just when I thought things were finally going right for once, something just had to come up at work and that he said he'd be late. But I didn't make too big a deal about it, since he was still planning to come. He should know the severity of my father being with me here. Most of all, he should have known about the importance of today." A pang of hurt struck past her face. "After that, me and my father decided to go on ahead to the restaurant and wait for him there. And so we waited. After an hour passed, he still didn't come, and by that time I'd become so anxious. But then he called, saying he couldn't make it, and that he had to work overtime! He actually put his work ahead of me, even just for tonight!" She balled up her fists and hung her head, her shoulders slightly shaking.

"You have no idea how much that crushed me. Crushed our only chance -no, _his_only chance to meet my father. And he blew it. He crushed everything. I had everything planned; it was supposed to be perfect. It was a miracle that my father even agreed to come in the first place, since he had to fly back to work by 9PM and I thought he needed the rest.

"I know we can't expect everything to go smoothly. It's probably not even his fault that he had to work overtime. But I was really upset. I guess even when no one is in the wrong, there is always someone we need to blame. It makes us feel more secure." She hugged herself tightly. "But anyways, I was very upset. I was really looking forward to meeting them together. I was already imagining them getting along. I was expecting my father to think that _oh, this man would definitely be a great son-in-law_or maybe _my daughter has chosen the best man for herself_. Now there's no doubt that he has a bad first impression of him and I can't do anything in his defense, because I am also very disappointed in him. Everything just went awry in an instant.

"So when we finished dinner, just the two of us, he took off without a word to the airport, but most likely thinking how much of a child's play this is." Her eyes watered as she scowled angrily. "I took my car and drove all the way here. I need to be somewhere where he couldn't find me. My boyfriend would probably go to my place to apologize after he's done with everything. And seeing him right now is the last thing I want. No apology is going to fix this."

On cue, her phone vibrated as it lit up, showcasing a picture of an enraptured Katara, resplendent and divine, kissed on the cheek by a man with a peculiar butch haircut, his boyish features contrasting sharply with her elegant beauty. Above was the caller ID; _Aang_.

_Aang, _He read silently. _Peaceful soaring_. _Guess that's him._

Scoffing, she grabbed her phone and answered, cursing and rambling, shouting and degrading him, returning to the violent phase of argument.

As he drank in her winding altercation, he lifted the cup to his mouth, pondering the information just presented to him, hiding the small smirk now blooming on his face.

The tea tasted sweeter than ever.


	3. Difference

**Chapter 3 – Difference**

**This might be the longest chapter hihazuki and I have ever written for this story.**

**Anyway, please do read and leave a review!**

Katara's brow twitched as she felt the warm touch of sunlight caress her bare arm tenderly. She shifted nonchalantly, attempting to shy away from the glaring light yet failed as she became fully basked in the sun's rays instead. There was simply no cover. The warmth tickled her skin, kissed every inch of her limbs, danced on her cold fingers, and formed a vague hint of shadow beneath her figure. She gave up trying to escape, and let the importunate daylight nag her as she closed her eyes.

Her eyelids fluttered open, her half-asleep mind was left balancing precariously between the thread separating dream and reality. She closed her eyes, but the intensity of the sun burned behind her eyelids, refusing to let her re-enter the blissfulness of slumber. It was constantly coaxing her to _wake up_.

Groaning, she heaved herself up from the table she didn't realize she fell asleep on, cupping her face in her hands. Something heavy slipped off from her shoulders as she stretched her arms far above her head, and when she looked behind her shoulder it turned out to be a coat. Finally starting to regain full consciousness, she yawned and glanced at her watch.

_07.05_, she took in silently while she rubbed the remnants of sleep from an eye with the back of her hand. She took her phone and tapped it in a light rapid motion, expecting the screen to light up.

Nothing. It was drained. She let out an exasperated sigh as she put it back on the table and looked around, taking notice of her surroundings. _Where am I?_

Her eyes travelled to the familiar authentic walls and windows, taking note of every chair and table dotting the room, and how they all seemed so familiar and off-putting at the same time... Wait.

Oh.

_Oh_.

It all came back to her.

"_You're going?" She asked as he rose from his seat, grabbing his coat on the arm rest. She felt a slight twinge of heaviness inside as he tidied up, although she couldn't understand why._

"_Yeah, sorry, I've got work I need to get done," he answered apologetically. "You sure you don't want to go home?"_

_She shook her head defiantly. "Nuh-uh, not happening, no." She declared sharply, her conviction rising with every declination she emphasized, and took to glaring at the screen of her phone, almost challenging it to light up with a call from the person she least wanted to hear from. "At least, not for tonight."_

_Not looking up, she heard a shuffling from him, as if he were looking for something in his coat pocket. A second later, five gleaming, silver coins dropped down to the receipt, adding to the money already laying there._

"_What do you think you're doing?" She looked up, baffled._

"_You'll need to save your money for a hotel room."_

"_There's no such-"_

"_I insist." He clasped his wallet shut with a sound of finality and shoved it back into its place, effectively silencing the stricken woman._

_Not sure what to do or say, she looked back and forth between the silver pieces and the man himself. After a moment, she managed to catch his eye and forced an awkward smile. He looked away instantly, and she felt her cheeks burn as she said, "Thank you."_

"_Don't mention it."_

_He turned and headed towards the door, and she watched him as he went. A flurry of foreign emotions churned inside her as he got closer to the exit. She was going to be alone the minute he walks out. Therefore she couldn't help add, "See you tomorrow?"_

_He paused, his head half-turned to her way, but his mop of bangs obscured his view, and nodded. "See you tomorrow."_

"Oh, you're finally up, Miss Katara?" A voice in the far distance called her, whizzing her out of her recent flashback. Turning her gaze to the direction of the voice's owner, she managed a weak smile when she saw it was the owner of the shop.

"Good morning, Iroh. I apologize for inconveniencing you the entire night, but I couldn't..."

"A good morning is enough, my dear." He smiled at her warmly, instantly making her guilt whoosh away. "Let me set the shop up first and I'll bring you breakfast. My treat, alright?"

"You do spoil me a bit too much, Iroh." Katara laughed softly. "Thank you."

"Now, a humble old man like me just could not leave a young and beautiful maiden as yourself in distress, now can I?" He chuckled heartily as he flipped up the last few chairs upside down on the table. Finished, he put his hands on his hips and went to the pantry, wiping his hands on his apron as he disappeared behind the curtains.

Katara leaned back in her seat, letting out a delicate sigh in reference to her memory, still very fresh in her drowsy, awakening mind.

She didn't go to find a hotel room like Zuko had told her to do, and spent the entire night at Jasmine Dragon's instead. It wasn't that she lost his money or refused to accept his good will but she didn't think she would be able to fall asleep. She was hurt beyond measure, irritated, fuming, emotional, and the last thing she needed was to snuggle up in a cozy, welcoming bed. She had not and could not calm down in this state, although Zuko had implied heavily that she should do just that.

The young entrepreneur was too kind. He stayed with her throughout the entire time they were together yesterday, him unyielding in presence as she spilled her sob story, and even gave her money to rent a room overnight out of sheer consideration, despite how it was absolutely none of his concern. He had touched her; being the shoulder that Aang had never been. It was peculiar how she had just met him, yet she had unwillingly grown attached to him, and felt lonely the instant he left. The tea shop was still full with seated customers, both young and old, but she didn't have the urge to converse with them as she initially did with him.

Rather, his aura pulled her in. That kind of enigmatic, obscure aura that made you want to know more. The minute she saw him, she knew he stored an insurmountable sorrow that shone in his eyes. His handsome features belied the chasm of feelings padlocked within himself.

_Zuko_.

He was an intriguing man, far more intriguing than any she had ever met in her life. Listening to stories about him from Iroh made her strangely eager to know more. There was a lot more to him than what his clean-cut, aristocratic appearance told her to be. Never had she felt the tug of the rope that lured her to him as much to anyone else. Everything about him was to be questioned, yet she opened herself up to him without second thought as if he were a lifelong companion, a dear friend. She was even surprised at herself for doing that recklessly. She was never the type to open up easily, always remaining polite and guarded around people. Yet not only did she tell him the problem that was in the core of her very being, but she also lost all composure. Most of all, she felt comforted by that. Not shocked, embarrassed, outraged, but soothed and lighter, as if he had taken away half of her burdens. He quelled her fire with his presence alone. Why was that? What was it with him that drew her in?

The great urge came to her in tides, and she couldn't focus on anything else at present about how much more she wanted to know him; his past, his family, his friends, his everything.

She wanted to know about his _scar_.

Katara bit the insides of her cheek anxiously.

_Zuko's scar_.

Of course she had noticed it, who didn't? It took her every fiber of her being not to burst the question in front of him, lest she wanted his impression of her to plummet drastically. Nevertheless, she had long questioned the history of the scar, barely managing to keep it to herself. She assumed that it was a sore topic. Her curiosity never stopped nagging her by constantly whipping up speculations.

How did he get it? How did it happen? A burn he acquired from wild forest fires, perhaps when he was going on a camping trip? Did he work as a chef and failed miserably in the kitchen? Was that why he didn't help his Uncle run the shop? Was it something that came out of a plane crash he narrowly survived?

That scar added to most of her unanswerable questions she had about him, and she dearly wanted to know.

She considered asking Iroh about it. Before she could actually consider acting on it, he came out with two cups of tea and a plate of egg custard tart. Her stomach grumbled at the sight, and her thoughts were temporarily forgotten.

"It's always nice to have dessert as breakfast." He said, serving her breakfast on the table. Then he pulled out a chair across from her and sat down. _Zuko's seat_.

Feeling rather odd, she glanced around the room. It was silent and empty, even though the sun was high up in the air. All the chairs were stacked on the table, the floor was polished, there was no one behind the register, and the door was shut as if the shop were closed. A few windows were open, allowing in a fresh breeze that circulated freely around the room.

She inhaled in the crisp air that seemed to wash away the fogginess and last night's ugly events within her, and took a sip of her warm hot tea. _Ginseng_. "Is the shop closed?"

"Yes, fortunately, so I had no qualms about you staying the night over." He remarked lightly, tickling her with a twinge of the guilt she felt earlier. "Today is a commemoration for something. We'll be open for service again later in the afternoon." He mimicked her drinking.

Katara took a fork and cut the egg custard tart in half with careful precision. Handing a half to the elderly man, who took it after much persuasion on her behalf, she brought hers to her mouth and sinked her teeth into the soft texture. The pleasure was instantaneous. "A commemoration?"

The kind, old man smiled meaningfully, forming small wrinkles around his aged eyes. "A special occasion." He was unwilling to enlighten her, it seemed.

It was then her gazed traveled down and took in his outfit; apron-less so she could see clearly what he was wearing. It took her aback to see him wearing a conventional three piece suit and tie, humbling himself with slightly worn out loafers that made him stand out less. "Are you going somewhere?"

Glimpsing to himself before pulling himself upright again, his delightful smile still enhancing his features. "Yes. As a matter of fact, I would be very delighted if you could come with me. This old man could use the company. It can get very lonely sometimes when I walk."

"You walk, Iroh?" She exclaimed, putting her hands on the table in shock. An old man like him, going alone to somewhere unknown? Walking, no less! "Why, of course! You should have asked a long time ago! I can't leave you alone if that's the case! Surely you'll let me go with you. I'll take you with my car."

"Well, my nephew would normally be against outsiders coming, but since it's _you_, Miss Katara, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind." He closed his eyes as he sipped his tea again, a knowing and content look on his face.

Her panic cut short, and the gears in her head paused. "Wait, you mean Zuko? He'll be coming with us, too?"

"No, he'll meet us there."

"Well, this is certainly self-explanatory. I very well can't let you walk alone, but I can't possibly interrupt a family occasion. I'll just-"

"Please, do come. We... no, _he'll _want you to come. My nephew has been very depressed lately, and I'm afraid I can do nothing to help him. My tea can only do so much. I fear only you can be there for him in the way no one else can." His voice was whispering, pleading sincerity, unusually intense for an elderly man.

She was quiet. She didn't know if it was just his choice of words, or the genuine truth behind them that stunned her into silent contemplation. Her mind was a whirr of complicated strings of events and ties to the unknown. She couldn't decipher Zuko, she couldn't decipher herself, but all she knew was that she wanted to do anything in her power to help the solitary, poignant young man who seemed to amass endless grievances in his eloquence and burning fire of his aureate orbs.

"...I'll come with you."

oOo

"Here we are."

"...Well, technically, I wanted to take you to wherever you needed to go, didn't I..." She mumbled to herself, pulling over to park her cerulean Prius behind a dormant cab.

She started having doubts as soon as Iroh got out of the car the moment she unlocked the doors. Reluctantly, she stepped out of her car after him, pressing the lock key as long as possible to prolong the time.

_Anywhere but here_, she protested silently. _Such a dreary place to be at_. "Are you sure we're in the right place?"

"Without a doubt. After all, this is what the roses are for." He gestured at the bouquet in his hands.

She sighed anxiously, grimacing at her surroundings, the _not-so-delightful_place. "Well, now that you mention it, it _does_ make sense..."

"Follow me. Zuko's probably already waiting inside." He said, not looking at her as he moved on forward.

With a heavy gut feeling, she exhaled apprehensively and followed him up the turf while putting on her coat. It was chilly out. It was as if the gods above approved of them being here and made the weather very convenient of that for their visit.

She folded her arms across her chest tightly and shivered, clutching her purse and shooing away her uneasiness about the entire situation as she walked by stiff, neatly aligned tombstones standing watch over the graveyard.

To be honest, graveyards were never her sort of thing; she doubted it was anyone's. She would never come here if not for attending a funeral she could not avoid. It was a place that represented memories, loss, sorrow, and pain. The presence of death was too pungent here.

A few feet ahead of them was a lone figure, bent over a tombstone, dressed in a black suit. A flower bouquet was set on the ground, his hands clasped together in front of his face, lost in prayer. He didn't notice them as they came closer.

Once she recognized the stiff, young man, she pulled her dress up to her calves and hurried over to his side, passing Iroh, assuming a similar position next to the oblivious youth. Without first studying the name engraved on the tombstone, she closed her eyes and prayed for whoever was underneath the ground. It was a custom she could not ignore whenever she saw someone praying in front of their late loved ones, especially a close friend.

Feeling a significant presence beside him, he opened his eyes slightly and from his peripheral vision, discovered the ravishing young woman praying fervently beside him, her eyes scrunched up in admirable concentration. He smiled briefly before continuing on his prayer.

A few minutes passed by, and he clapped his hands twice, snapping the other two to attention. He curled his right hand into a fist and stacked it above his left and bowed deeply. (Fire Nation etiquette, see S03E02)

"Ah, I see you brought fire lilies. Ursa always loved them." Iroh stated with a reminiscing smile on his face, crouching next to his nephew and laying down the roses adjacent with the fire lilies.

"It's her favorite." He answered simply.

Finishing her prayer, Katara clapped her hands twice before bowing low to the grave, and faced the slightly amused man with a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry for interrupting. Your uncle just wouldn't take no for an answer."

"It's alright." He smiled soothingly at her, and his gaze flickered to the name written on the stone in front of them.

She followed his gaze. "You seem very devout to her. She must have been so loved."

"She was. She is and always will." In an effort to appear determined, he let his voice crack a little, and she felt a wave of guilt.

Clapping his hands twice and following their actions, Iroh smiled and touched the tombstone, gently stroking his wrinkled hands over the surface lovingly. "Indeed, she is. Ursa is Zuko's mother, and we are here, today, in a ten-year commemoration of her passing."

It was as if the haze in her mind had been wiped clean without a trace, and she could see things in an almost perfect clarity now. She was one step closer to understanding this convoluting young man, positively certain that this was an integral part of unlocking the key to his past and troubles. Strangely enough, a large part of her was also relieved to discover that the woman he loved was his mother, and not his lover.

She felt like slapping herself. Hard.

Really, what was she thinking?

She still had Aang, even though they weren't in particularly good terms at the moment.

Clearing her throat, she spoke up despite the embarrassing thoughts she was having. "I would have liked to meet her. Still, I pray that she is in peace now."

Zuko nodded as he got to his feet, brushing away the dirt on his trousers. "She would have liked to meet you, too."

"You're leaving?" She proclaimed as the glimpse of _déjà vu_clouded her mind. She shook her head mentally at the image.

"Yes. A car is supposed to pick me up at the hotel for work at 8.30."

She lifted her watch and checked the time.

8.10 AM.

"Do you really have to go, Zuko?" Iroh rose to his feet with a disheveled grunt, resting his hand on the young man's shoulder for support.

He nodded regretfully at them. "Yes. Unfortunately, it's urgent." Looking at the grave, he bowed again. "I'm sorry, Mom. I have to go now. I'll come see you again when I have the time."

Recalling the fact that the independent man next to her was not an inhabitant of the Earth Kingdom, she stood up and offered him a lift.

He refused, naturally. "Thanks for the offer, but I have a taxi waiting for me outside." He turned to go. "Now if you'll excuse me-"

"No '_but'_s, Zuko," She declared as she stood in his way, staring up at him defiantly. "Consider this as a thank-you for last night."

Having Katara stand right in front of him, capturing his eyes so effortlessly with those hypnotizing eyes the color of rippling ocean, just inches apart from him and her goddess-like transcendence magnified, Zuko found himself at a loss on what to say. "U-uh... Um..."

Being aware of the situation, Iroh decided to step in. "It's okay, son. I'll take the cab. Can't have the customers waiting to taste my delectable tea, now can we?"

He felt awkward under his uncle's mischievous, low chuckle. Count him to read the situation perfectly. "Uh, but, Uncle-"

"Don't worry, I've got cash," The elder interrupted, patting him on the shoulder as he started to walk past them.

"I know you have plenty to ask, so make good use of your time." He whispered to Katara and winked, not breaking his stride.

"But-!" Zuko started again, his cheeks flushing. "I can't let a girl _drive_me to work! That's... that's just—!" He cut himself off, comprehending his words.

His breathing suspended as he heard her clear her throat slowly. _Crap_, was all he could think about as he caught her entire face darkened, and the ominous smile that began to bloom like an exotic, toxic flower.

"Excuse me? Do you have something against _girls driving_?" Her sweet tone was very positively and ironically poisoned with something he didn't dare specify.

Not very often did the proud and intelligent Zuko feared for his life.

_Especially_by a girl.

He couldn't help adding that last thought. He was _slightly_stereotypical.

His uncle's hearty laughter was just an echo in the distance as he was left alone with the suddenly very scary young woman.

"So, shall we go? The clock is ticking." She tilted her head sweetly at him, her expression unreadable yet deadly in its own way.

He gulped. "...Sure..."

oOo

It was useless. They had been driving in silence for awhile now, not sure what to say to the other.

Katara gripped the steering wheel harder. _C'mon, Katara! You can do better than this! What did you come for?_

No matter how hard she berated herself, she couldn't bring herself to speak what was on her mind, plaguing her every waking moment. He wouldn't tell her anything unless she asked him first.

She wasn't sure if she should be doing it, though. She may be nosy, but she still had her manners. There was no escaping the feeling that she felt they were just merely acquaintances. Sure, she had spilled the beans about her personal love life, but that was entirely her choice.

Or was it?

Either way, she couldn't expect him to do the same. She was an outgoing, fun extrovert. Zuko seemed... intimidating, closed, off-limits type of guy. _Forbidden territory_. She noticed that even when around close friends or relatives, he would still keep to himself.

If he even had any close friends. Besides his uncle. She genuinely doubted it.

Being the benefit of the doubt, she chose to keep her mouth shut. She definitely did not want to ruin whatever it was that was blossoming between them. It was fragile and the slightest nudge had the potential to crack it, but she had a feeling, a deep gut feeling, that it was worth it.

So she concentrated on the road ahead of her, trying to occupy her mind with something else in the meantime. She couldn't bear to ask about his scar. Or Ursa.

Tui and La, Ursa. His mother whom he cherished dearly. How old was he when she passed away? How old was she when she left? What happened to her? What kind of person was she like? She must have been a very affectionate mother. Did she used to sing him to sleep when he was little? How did it connect to how Zuko is like now? Thousands of questions, relevant and irrelevant, raced through her mind. Distracting herself was impossible. Driving didn't take up as much concentration as it did when she first took the wheel. She huffed quietly and bit her tongue.

Keeping quiet was much harder than she thought.

It was Zuko who broke the silence and surprised her. "Thank you, Katara."

She blinked as the mention of her name brought her back to reality. She eyed him for a few seconds, waiting for him to continue, and looked back front.

Sensing that she was waiting for him to continue, he took a deep breath. "For offering me a ride... and visiting my mother."

Katara couldn't help but smile at his awkward gratitude. He was adorable when he was like that. "You're very welcome. In all honesty, this situation makes me recall what happened with my own mother. I feel like visiting yours made me closer with mine, for some reason. So, thank you for this opportunity." She replied, earning a concerned look from the young man.

"If you don't mind my asking... What happened to her?"

"Oh, she passed away years ago, when I was still eight. I guess around the same age as you were when your mother died." Sensing the curiosity still emanating strongly from the seasoned man, she chuckled before continuing. It seemed that the table was turned, for now. "Do you know of the Water Tribe Civil War?"

Then it struck him. The way those blue eyes emitted a particular radiance and her brilliant mocha skin. She was a part of the Water Tribe. Why hadn't he ever thought of that?

"The Northern and Southern Water Tribe used to be in one unity. But there existed an ideological difference concerning women rights. I can't even begin to comprehend about the ridiculous controversy there but the point was my dad was one of the leaders of the revolutionary movement. As a result, my family became the number one fugitives of the government. We were viewed as traitors of the country.

"One night, when my brother and I were fast asleep, soldiers snuck in and invaded our family. My dad, who had foreseen this event, had our mother wake us up. He had contacted Bato, the other leader, that we were being attacked and signaled him for help. The panic room at the back of our house was less than ten feet away, but one of the soldiers had succeeded in breaking down the front door. My dad had his rifle with him at the ready, and so did my brother with his boomerang. There was gunfire everywhere, and my family was lost, scattered amidst the haze of war and chaos. I was basically running blind, and I vaguely remembered being hugged so tightly, my face buried in someone's clothes that I nearly suffocated.

"In all the confusion, we managed to stumble into the panic room and secured ourselves inside. It was then we finally got a chance to take a breath. That was when my brother saw blood on my forehead. It didn't sting, didn't hurt. I touched my forehead, and said it wasn't mine. There was no wound. He told dad, who also took a closer look. After a while, we inspected each other. I was unharmed, and so was my brother, fortunately. My father was also well. It was when we saw our mother... we knew where it came from." Her voice began to tremble, but she forced herself onwards. "She was curled up on the floor, bleeding her insides out. She was breathing heavily, and her eyes were screwed shut. There was this pool of red blanketing her already, and it turned out she was the one protecting me just a few moments before. A shot was headed my way, and she had shielded me, taking the hit instead to her lower abdomen-"

"Enough, stop!" Zuko shouted suddenly.

Startled, she stiffened her grip on the wheel, her knuckles immediately turning white.

"I'm sorry... I'm the worst, Katara. I didn't mean to make you bring that up. It was horribly selfish of me. Please forgive me, I..." He bowed his head and turned away.

After a moment's silence, she managed a weak smile and loosened her grip. "It's okay. What's happened has happened, and I don't intend to forget that, ever. I won't be able to forget the last, great deed she has done for me, and I owe it to her for the rest of my life. That's the least I can do to honor her. I actually have to thank _you_ for making me remember again." She turned to him. "So thank you, Zuko. For making me remember my hero again."

He felt the burning embers of shame brewing in his stomach. She was just trying to make him feel better; it didn't change the fact that he made her remember unpleasant memories. She had it much harder than him, and despite that she still managed to seem sanguine and effervescent. Unlike him, who let his own dark past get the best of him. He was pathetic.

Consoling never did any good. To him, it meant showing pity when it was the last thing he needed and he absolutely despised it. So he did the thing that he thought was most appropriate in the given situation. To relate. "My mother... she died in a fire accident."

Now the attention was diverted. "I'm... sorry to hear that..."

He thought twice before continuing. Did he really want to tell her his own deplorable past that he had always been so adamant in concealing? By now he knew it was too late to back away. She was waiting for him to elaborate.

Taking a deep breath, he continued. "When I was thirteen, me and my mother and sister came here for a vacation. My father couldn't come because of work, like always. By now I was used to going places with just my mother and sister. Anyway, one night my mother woke us up all of a sudden, shaking us and screaming there was fire in the hallway. By the time I was fully awake, the heat coming from the fire was excruciating, and I could see the waves in the air. When we ran out into the hallway, the flames were burning up most of the corridor, and the fire brigade still hadn't come. The smoke was unbearable; I couldn't see through it at all. But mom pulled me towards the fire stairs.

"It was pure torture, like living hell. Wherever we went, there was fire and smoke that filled our lungs and made it increasingly hard to breathe. My sister fell and nearly got crushed by the rubble. We were almost to the exit when the ceiling gave way. It separated me and my sister from our mother. I screamed and called out to her, but I heard nothing. I told my sister to stay put while I attempted to go dig through the pile when I heard her reply. She was under the wreckage, barely moving. When I panicked and started looking for help, she looked up at me and told me to go ahead. She said that she'd catch up. I hesitated, of course, but I was still a kid then, and I never disobeyed my mother's orders. My mind was a mess, torn between what I thought was right and what she told me to do. But her orders gave out in the end and I had no choice but to leave her, praying fervently to Agni for her to survive somehow. I still had hope back then, as a foolish, naive child."

"_Take your sister with you!" _Her voice reemerged, echoing in his mind in such a tangible way that it drowned the rest of his lingering thoughts. He gritted his teeth as he struggled to continue.

"I left her. I took my sister's hands and we both went on to the fire stairs. But still I struggled. My feet ached to bring me back to her side. My sister started pulling me forward, crying out my name, over and over. I couldn't help myself. I spared a glance back to my mother, and my body twisted to her direction, having second thoughts of its own.

"She looked at me, her expression no longer contorting and pained. It was gentle, and loving to the core. She held my gaze with a soothing passion, a beautiful smile that warmed me up inside, in an entirely different way that the heat from the fire did, of course."

"_Don't look back, Zuko, my dear, my love. Don't worry. I'll be right behind you. I am with you. I will always be with you."_Her voice whispered breathily, tickling his ears and surrounding him, so real, so close, and so heartfelt. It was like a lightning bolt to the core.

"After that, I ran. I couldn't stand it any longer. I trusted her every word. I believed that she would catch up and be with us, like she promised. If only I was mature enough to know that her definition of always being with us differed from mine. If only I wasn't so easily allured by her sweet incentive! If only..." He bowed his head and his knuckles clenched so tight that veins protruded. "If only I knew that was that last I'd ever see of my mother."

"Zuko..." He couldn't bear to see the expression on Katara's face. All was still and quiet. The car had stopped.

"We survived, my sister and I. We were standing outside, waiting for our mom to keep her promise. However, minutes began to feel like hours, and slowly, I began to realize my utter stupidity. I was too panicked before to doubt her words, and yet there was no reason to, since I had always trusted her and everything turned out fine. But this time, I knew something was wrong. My sister was too young to understand anything that was happening, and I could remember her just repeating over and over, _Where is mama? Zuzu, where is she_?" His voice cracked a little as he imitated his sister's voice. "I couldn't answer her, I was too ashamed of myself. I had vowed to protect my family as the future head of the house, my mother included! So I told her I was going to fetch mom, and that she should wait there. Yes, I tried to go back in, and I was nearly inside when the fire brigade came. They caught up to me and tried to hold me back. I struggled with everything I had, I was so close I could feel the fire, the heat so near it stung and brought me to tears, the clouds of ash invading my lungs that I could barely breathe, and the sparks that nearly blinded me; but all I knew was that my mom was in there, that she needed me, that I had to go rescue her and make up for my stupidity, no matter what.

"But what was I against a handful of trained men restraining me, a weak child, from going in to save her? I screamed at them, hit them, but they didn't listen, didn't even flinch. They dragged me mercilessly to the back of an ambulance where my sister was, and they strapped me to a stretcher, rendering me immobile and I could only watch like the useless fool I was at the flames eating up the place where we occupied, where my mom was still in. I couldn't scream anymore, an oxygen mask was covered over my mouth, and the last thing I saw was the residues of my hope, my faith, my determination dying along with the fire being snuffed out by fire hoses. But I didn't pass out completely, I was more or less drifting in and out of consciousness. What happened next was just a jumble of shouts and yells growing closer, and my vision was blurry when I saw them open the doors again, but I felt a tremendous wash of relief when I saw my mother again. She was strapped to a stretcher like I was, but I couldn't see her face. She was being crowded around by medics, and they were blocking my view. I tried to strain against my restraints, but I was already too weakened and the anesthesia was finally starting to get to me. Before I fully passed out, I saw her being slid in next to me, her body unbearably still, various contraptions, hoses, tubes clamped all over her torso and face. I vaguely wondered why she was given that many when me and Azula were only given oxygen masks, but then the darkness took over, and everything was blank." He paused, the sudden silence in the air agonizing and thick.

The next words were choked out. "When I woke up, she was gone. It was amazing how much difference a couple more minutes in the burning house could impact on a person." His eyes glazed over as he looked at her, and she somehow knew he wasn't looking at her, rather straight through her, at a memory leaving a horribly bitter taste on his tongue. "She was gone, Katara. Gone."

"My father found out and flew here without a moment's notice. The death of our mother left him dejected and demented. When we cremated her the next day, he dragged me to her corpse and shoved my face, his own _son_'s face, into the fire. He yelled at me, saying that I should be the one cremated for being a useless child that only watched her die without doing anything to save her. He told me to feel her pain, how it felt like to be in fire's grip. He said this was a lesson for me. He had lost his mind, and I was the victim. If my uncle hadn't stopped him then, he would probably keep burning me until I was reduced to nothing." Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he finished his story. "My own father did that to me, Katara. And this mark of my shame, anger, and guilt will stay for the rest of my life."

Warm hands cupped his cold ones, the slight throbbing of his injured hands suddenly draining away. A sort of healing warmth flowed through his veins as she engulfed his into her own. Her warmth, that was both similar and dissimilar only made his emotions surge, bringing his head down to her hands in a quiet, racking sob.

o0o

That night, she was relieved to see him smiling.

"Want to know what Mom was like?"

She tilted her head upon hearing his sudden question.

Lifting a teacup, he offered it to her.

"Try chamomile tea."

**THERE!**

**On behalf of this chapter, I would likely thank my friend, **_**Abi**_**, for helping me sorting out the tragedy of Kya's death. And Kiki for adding some sparks to the plot.**


	4. Primrose Path

**Chapter 4 – Primrose Path**

**Okay, so, I take my words back about chapter 3 being the longest chapter hihazuki and I have ever written. This one's way much longer. Hopefully, this is the longest.**

**I forgot to mention about the character's ages, so let me clarify now: Zuko is twenty-four, Katara's twenty-two, Aang's age is mentioned here (he's twenty), and Sokka and Suki are twenty-three (and married, too!).**

**Anyways, by reason of some …**_**goodies**_**, this story is now rated 'M'.**

**Oh, and I've changed and revised some parts in chapter 3, too. (Thank you, Lunatique, for the awesome critique!) Check it out before you read this one. Enjoy!**

Seven had always been Zuko's lucky number.

He made seven home runs on the little league baseball tournament with seven as his jersey number.

He was titled the most honorable student and was nominated for the Student Council President in seventh grade.

He was given a Ducati Monster for his seventeenth birthday on July 7th.

He was seventh in line to inherit his family's long running business whose unparalleled success branched beyond the limits of the sky.

So far, he always felt at the top of his game whenever it came to seven. And today was no exception.

It was March 7th.

A smile slowly made its way to his face. He had a feeling it was going to stay for awhile.

Like with all days that had 'seven' in it, his superstitions leaned in his favor. Things ran even smoother than usual; he wouldn't be surprised if there was actually a deity spinning the wheels of fate for him –no matter how terribly cliché that sounded.

One by one, with his ordeals shrinking and his mind clearing, one thing became even more certain.

Unlike the previous sevens, he intuited this day was slightly more altered, having its own distinguishable touch to it. It didn't seem as if fortune was the only one gracing him with its presence. This time, it brought along a centerpiece, a cynosure in the midst of his personal idyll.

He didn't want to believe it, didn't think it possible. He couldn't lie to his heart, though. Deep inside, he knew the one thing that even the miraculous number seven couldn't cover.

The truth. And as sullen as he was to acknowledge it, there was no other way to make peace with himself than to face his greatest revelation.

_He had fallen for Katara_.

The sheer absurdity of the situation baffled him. How was it that it only took three days for a complete stranger to claim his heart? Was she really a godsend that he was so easily captivated by her? Or was he just that impressionable?

He suspected that he even fell for her the day they had met, yet the realization dawned upon him only now. Moments progressed, and eventually his initial bewilderment receded into grudging acceptance.

There was no use moping about it. Besides, it was his lucky day. Something good was bound to come out of this.

His conviction in superstitions was firm beyond belief, and from it he drew the strength in remaining steadfast.

So when he took strides to reach the entrance of his favorite tea shop throughout Ba Sing Se, he wasn't surprised to see the lack of circumspection that usually accompanied him wherever he went. Right now he felt secure, level headed and self-assured.

He went in and sat down at their usual table, proceeding to wait. His heart thudded in anticipation of her arrival. They hadn't made any actual plans to rendezvous at the location, nor was she a regular customer, but he was certain she would come. Something in his gut told him so.

Agni tell how his surge of confidence had bordered into startling complacence. His ego was overwhelming even himself.

She did show up. The recognition in her eyes as she noticed him immediately upon her arrival was enough to elicit a growing smile on his face. He lit up more with each step she took his way. It seemed as if nothing could stop him from brimming over.

Until he saw her up close.

In this world, people often express emotion their face, more often than not, in the form of a smile. Although some are proficient enough to conceal it, but anyone with a keen eye could discern the subtlest change in a person's countenance or the atmosphere surrounding them. There are many smiles that have the ability to illustrate what a person could be feeling; craftiness, avarice, demureness, or jubilance, like the one Zuko was evidently wearing with a lack of significant shame.

He noticed her smile was brooding, woeful. It was that small, contrite curve alone that whisked away Zuko's own smile and cheer clear off his face.

He could only stare at her dumbly as she seated herself and gave out her order in what seemed to be an undertone; a caramel milk tea. Following the order, he half-expected her to brighten up, or at least acknowledge him by telling him what was wrong.

But no, her dispirited aura lingered, shoulders slightly hunched and eyes downcast in a mellow expression of languor, and silence reigned supreme.

Slowly, he felt his ego sap out of him like a sewage drain. It was the first time that day that he hesitated, uncertain of what to say or do that would relieve her. Feeling markedly helpless, he found nothing else to do than to continue his bashful staring.

Their eyes met. She held his gaze for a few moments as he felt his cheeks beginning to burn.

She really was beautiful. His eyes weren't just playing tricks on him. Not only was she mesmerizing, but her personality was like none other he'd seen in his lifetime.

For all practical purposes, he had seen and met with more than his fair share of women, most of them shallow, who would rather play nice to get what they sought after, mastering the art of deception in order to effortlessly turn tides to their favor. Much like his ex-girlfriend, Mai. They were manipulative, ungrateful harpies only capable of abusing their wealth. Granted, he had often been associated with daughters of aristocrats that he was coerced to spend time with by having his relations —in terms of commerce, thank Agni— to them exploited, but that enough gave him a cohesive idea of females in general.

Yet, Katara changed that. True, he was initially attracted to her physically. He doubted if he would even spare her a glance if he didn't see his mother in her. They both shared the same long, dark hair that shimmered in the moonlight. Both of their smiles were dazzling, warm, and inviting. However, as he got to know her, the less he thought of her as his mother's lookalike and more of her own self.

Her compassion was undeniably fascinating. Although she wasn't in her best yesterday and came off as a little bit meddlesome, he knew she only meant well. Her nudging him to tell her his deepest, most well-kept tribulations made him feel much lighter than he had in years.

He understood that she sympathized with him. Normally, he would detest all those who did so, embedded in his understanding that it was all artificial, and utterly convinced they did so towards a certain end.

But she looked so genuine in such a raw way, and it touched him. It was nice to find someone patient enough to listen to him and not get frightened initially by his scar. She was open-minded, which was probably due to their similar pasts, but that in itself was greatly comforting. She could understand him, and not shower him with fake condolences like most people who thought they could get away with pretending they knew how he felt.

Although he wasn't much for talking, and would much prefer to stay away from people who talked too much, he found her to an anomaly. She was garrulous, but in a good way. She respected his boundaries well and he, in return, respected that as well. She never ceased to bring up new things to say that didn't sound completely forced and irrelevant, or transparent enough that he could see her effort in catching his attention - which countless had attempted and succeeded on grating his nerves instead.

The main concern for tonight was how lacking she was in the vocals department, which was unusual.

Silent moments weren't unusual for them, yet this kind of silence that hung even after they poured refills for their tea was stifling. Neither one spoke; one merely taciturn and the other for reasons yet unknown.

For the life of him, he wasn't a natural conversationalist. He couldn't let words smoothly flow out of his mouth like his Uncle could. At times like these he wished he inherited more of Iroh's innate eloquence.

So they lay there in silence, stirring their tea tediously, listening in dully on snippets of other people's conversations all around them.

At least, Zuko was. Apparently, his young lady companion was too lost in her own thoughts to take into account of his fraught demeanor.

It killed him, not having the courage to initiate a conversation. If he did, they wouldn't be stuck here like sitting ducks. He would be able to listen to her vivacious chatter that would never cease to occupy his attention, her wondrous blue eyes rippling as she rambled on in that luscious, mellifluous timbre of hers.

The slight tapping of his feet that he had been doing subconsciously became more frantic –a low thumping sound that was thankfully only audible to him- as the time passed, and the consciousness of it all began blanketing him thrice fold.

He was starting to deeply doubt the existence of his lucky number.

Finally, the clock struck ten, and he made up his mind. Rather than busying his mind to the point that he wanted to pull out his hair in frustration with thoughts of something that he knew he was incapable of doing, he might as well do some early packing. He was going back tomorrow night, following his success in building yet another joint enterprise.

It was a shame that their camaraderie -or more, he had foolishly hoped- had to end so soon. It was a given that very soon he would mull it over, bash his head against the wall, condemn, weep, and cradle the remains of his broken dignity. But for now, his mind had automatically kicked itself into evasive mode.

He had to stop making a fool out of himself. A hasty retreat was in order.

Of course, being Zuko, he couldn't just stand up and storm off. There was no honor in that. He needed to do it subtly and as nonchalant as possible. He had started with the day with composure; he was determined to end it with composure.

He looked around and motioned to a nearby waitress for the bill. He numbly shifted in his chair to finger the silver coins in his pocket, unaware of Katara now fixing him an intense cerulean stare.

She didn't look away when he finally caught her eye.

A part of him was confused. Another was enthralled. The need to strike up a conversation was all but forgotten as he once again found himself lost in the turmoil of her snowstorm. Her arctic blue orbs churned with a deep, hidden desire, glistening like the moon, vivid and striking, chaotic and slightly delirious, telling an obscure tale in itself as it steadily held his gaze.

He blinked, regaining composure as he stood up. He was a fool to think that this was going anywhere.

Farewell was just on the tip of his tongue when she finally opened her mouth.

"Can I...come over?"

oOo

He was there, reclining on the far end of his bed, arms folded behind his head as he kept his gaze straight to the ceiling. However, he couldn't escape the feeling of being rigid yet skittish for some unexplained reason, feeling the acute desire to be anywhere but his room. Just looking around felt dangerous to him even though it was his own room that he rented himself. It was as if a single glance at a wrong region would inspire a certain doom.

He was back in his suite. None of his things were stolen, and he was just a shut-eye away from slipping into the realm of dreams.

Yet he wasn't alone. There was no mistaking the sound of the shower running and the fog that spilled through the door to the bathroom.

He sighed again, his anxiety once again getting the best of him. What had he got himself to now?

The spirits must be holding a grudge against him or something. Why else would they invoke a sudden downpour just when they were just a couple ways away from the hotel he resided in? It successfully drenched them and further dampened his mood, which had already demeaned the moment awkward silence ensued between the two of them back at the shop.

Whatever happened to his enforced desire to escape her? He remembered making a bolt for it, when all of a sudden, she managed to corner him with a request he knew he could not reject. She had swiftly caged him and now he felt like being leashed as he conceded to bringing her back with him. What was going to happen from here?

Then the accursed rain just had to happen, and being totally unprepared, they had to make a run for it, the moisture soaking into their pores so fast the fabric clung to their skin, and hers, in particular, left little to the imagination. It was moments later when she was fully ahead of him that he realized he had been _staring_.

He groaned and hit his head on his chest, chin colliding painfully in jarring impact. What a way to nurse his indignity. It was a good thing she hadn't been paying attention, else he'd seem like an utter degenerate, and he swore if it ever had to come to that, he would never reveal his face to society again.

Now, considerably cleaner and better groomed, he had to endure the excruciating wait until she was done showering, which proved to be very compromising and nonplussing in its own right; his mind wandering to depths he dared not venture, conjuring the wildest fantasies as it unwillingly replayed the event where she was running in front of him, drenched in the rain, her previously dry and silky pleated long skirt that fluttered lightly with every movement now soaked thoroughly, its paper-thin material plastered on every visible curve and crevice of her body, restricted free movement as it was forced to move along with her skin—

_Snap out of it, you dumbass!_ He chastised himself as he cleanly severed his line of thought, horrified at how he was so easily enamored by her. It was just in time too, as he heard the shower knob turn and the sound of muffled water stop entirely.

He held his breath as the tormenting seconds before her opening the door stretched far longer than it needed to be. There was no helping the stir of something he didn't dare mention in his lower abdomen as he cursed his own body that seemed to betray him. He couldn't think about it. He refused to. It was lewd and lecherous, not to mention indubitably inappropriate, and there was no doubt she'd be disgusted by him; if she found out. The recent, _fresh-out-of-the-oven_ occurrence at the teashop flickered in his mind before he subsequently banished it to the far recesses in his mind.

A few moments later, the door opened, and steam instantly flooded into the room. The bathroom was bright, and he had to squint to make out the figure that emerged from it. His mind failed to process in a civil manner as he took in the sight before him.

Clad in only a towel, Katara looked ultimately divine. Her shapely figure, he couldn't help but notice, was accentuated by the bathrobe that hung precariously and oh-so tantalizingly on her hips. It was as if she meant for that to happen. Her skin was a stark contrast to the white towel she had on, and it made her look more alluring. Her dark, luscious hair was matted and wild, giving her a feral appeal. It was a quintessential combination with her deep blue eyes that seemed to electrify his very core.

He couldn't believe what was happening. The woman standing in front of him was the very epitome of his dreams. Countless times had she crossed his mind and blatantly refused to leave. The girl of his dreams, the woman he realized he had fallen for, the pinnacle of his reverie, was right there.

And he was at a loss on what to do.

Less than innocent images ran through his head and he had to force himself to stay composed. She had no idea what she was doing to him by merely standing there, her intense stare on him not receding.

He snapped his head back down, feigning a sudden interest in the texture of the velvety carpet. It felt sinful to look at her that way. She had a boyfriend. He would never dream of compromising on his morals, no matter how much of a jerk the guy was made out to be.

Yet, it had been her decision. Why else would a woman want to come over to a man's residence in the middle of the night, if not to look for reprieve and pleasure? She was obviously depressed, and he doubted if whatever she had in plan for them now was the right thing to do. He never seemed to know what was right and wrong.

Only a few seconds past before he felt the bed creak -or was it just his imagination?- and dip. Was she actually getting in with him? He prayed fervently that she had some clothes on, or at least looked decent enough so he wouldn't have mental images of ravaging her. He wasn't sure if she knew what kind of power she had over him, with what current state she was in.

To his surprise and horror, and a strange giddiness he couldn't identify, a small pair of hands caressed his back gently and in rubbed slow circles on them as he felt her come close, her body heat making it excruciatingly difficult for him to keep his hands to himself. He dared himself to dart his eyes to the door where she came out from, and was dismayed to find that her towels had not been discarded, and the clothes he put out for her in replacement of her wet ones were untouched.

Katara leaned towards him and pressed her forehead on his back. It was warm. Yes, she needed warmth. She needed his warmth. What she felt during the past three days. She wanted him to know, before he went back to his homeland, where they might as well never see each other again.

She knew from the first time she caught him staring at her like an idiot he was at the teashop that he was different, although she couldn't place a finger on what, exactly. It wasn't until later she began to realize his value was singular. Before she knew it, he had become the focal point of her thoughts, sidelining everything else, even Aang. He swallowed up her mind in only three days.

How was that even possible? She didn't understand herself. She didn't know if her rapidly growing feelings were based on the impression that she had no one else she could relate to.

She was confused, terribly confused. Her mind was warring against each other, two halves vying for dominion.

She had what she wanted, but why was it not enough?

She could think no longer. She only did what she thought would give her the answer she so ardently sought for the past few days. This was screaming stupidity, lunacy in every syllable, but her mind refused to be budged. Under normal circumstances, being this reckless, much less thinking about it, was preposterous to her; an aberrant atrocity in itself.

But she had never felt so torn between a man she had only met for days she could count with her fingers, and another she had known virtually her entire life. The concept was dishearteningly farcical. What she had in mind had the ability to scar both Aang and Zuko for life.

Oh Zuko, dear Zuko. What was he to her?

She sighed delicately, the soft whoosh of air that exited her mouth tingling his heightened senses and he shivered involuntarily. He didn't like what she was doing to him. But he stayed still and frigid, deathly silent. The sound of his heartbeat was a little louder than he preferred it to be.

He caught her murmuring under her breath, words nearly inaudible to him until he calmed down and struggled to tune in.

"I'm sorry..." In that rare moment of clarity, he paused to ponder what she meant. Or maybe he heard wrong. What was there to apologize for?

"I'm sorry." She whispered again, and his back felt strangely moist.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and he felt his curiosity getting the better of him.

Slowly shifting his head, he caught a glimpse of her head buried on the folds of his shirt with fingers tensed into small, taut fists, both quivering and fragile. He paid extra care as he reached back and delicately pried her fists off his back, facing her.

Her fingers were cold despite the fact that she came out of a hot shower. From his peripheral vision, he saw the wisps of fog still hovering sluggishly at the door to the bathroom, the heat just barely reaching him.

He dragged his thumbs across her palm, kneading it in continuous circles in an attempt to warm them up. They felt so soft, so smooth, even for a girl's. He didn't mind rubbing them any time, all the time.

She still didn't look up as he did his ministrations. He had hoped she would finish her sentence, but it seemed that this was a conversation that would be more appropriate discussed while upright.

Easing himself up, he slid his hands from hers to her forearms, gently pulling her up with him. She obliged with little resistance. He couldn't help spotting the tiny vista of cleavage as she pulled herself up with his support.

His eyes darted away for a split second, breath hitching slightly in his throat before turning towards her again, restricting his line of sight solely to her visage. This position was hardly any less awkward than the one they were in just the moment before, but it had to make do. After all, it would be foolish of him to think they could hold a genial conversation on a _bed_, of all places.

Especially with her choice of outfit, which had apparently turned optional.

Of course he had tried goading her to the table that was more than enough to occupy for two people, but she didn't budge. She had seemed so out of it that he felt guilty if he had to pursue his request, regardless of it being for their own good.

"What for?" He forced out after a moment's silence, vaguely surprised that his voice came out hoarse.

"Because… we didn't talk, back at the teashop. I made things more awkward than it needed to be." She murmured, hell bent on staring down at the satin red of his comforter. Who knew what was going through her mind at that moment?

"Well, don't be. You had something on your mind, I understand," He comforted, a rueful smile starting to grace his features. Somehow, he found this timid side of her adorable beyond words. "Besides, I didn't talk either. So it was only fair that you didn't." He had meant the last sentence as part humor, part consolation for her, yet the silence did not break.

Well, he was aware that he wasn't exactly gifted in that department.

But be it far for him to give up that easily. A nagging feeling tugged at the pit of his stomach, insisting that he assuage the young woman at all costs.

"Hey. Look at me." He whispered as softly, as soothingly as he could. He put his fingers under her chin and lifted them up gently, eliciting her desired eye contact. "It's all right. There's nothing you need to be sorry for."

His heart stopped beating. Whatever had prepared him for her was gone as it fast as it came. From up close, at an even closer angle than ever before, her supernal beauty was transcendent beyond words. Glistering oceanic eyes coupled with long, luxuriant lashes that he could count if he wanted to, the contour of her nose, the delicate yet sensual curves of her incarnadine lips, the rosiness of her cheeks, and the sultry outline of her jaw stirred something unimaginable inside him. Not only was her skin appealing to him in its natural cacao complexion, it was also still very moist, with tiny droplets of water gliding down her skin that made his blood race.

At that very moment, she had captured his gaze as well as his heart. Something was building up rapidly inside him, and he could barely hold himself back as he stared at her for what seemed like a lifetime longer.

It all happened in a heartbeat.

Before he knew it, gentle, soft lips were pressed against his. Instantly, his mind went blank, and he could only blink as he struggled to process this sudden turn of events.

It was light and feathery. He didn't know that women's lips could feel that soft. But then again, now wasn't the time to revel in that. He had to do something. This was against his morals, a contradiction to the principles that ruled his life thus far.

But he couldn't find it in him to resist. She deepened the kiss and something wet prodded his lips gently, demanding entrance.

Whatever little restraint he had been able to avail himself with went out the window as pure instinct kicked in, a feral firestorm that brew deep in his viscera finally arising with that single gesture.

Regaining sight of the circumstances, he indulged in her kiss, returning it with his own, albeit more hesitantly. He was in his final stages of contemplating his options one more time; although he knew without a shred of doubt which choice he was drastically leaning towards. He was teetering on the brink of their tentative friendship, ambivalent yet enlivened to the idea of delving into a territory far more foreign and intimate.

He wasn't sure how to go about this; it was his first time acting in such intimacy. He had always been so aloof and driven that notions of romance were forgone in favor of pleasing his father and forgiven for his past sins. He considered handing the reigns to Katara, who seemed to be much more versed than he was, but when her fingers started sliding up to the tousled hair on the nape of his neck and entangling them in his thick, raven hair, he gave in to compulsion. Growling quietly, he administered more force in his kiss as his desire began to surface akin to that of an enkindling dragon.

It was obvious she wasn't prepared for the sudden pressure. She was becoming more erratic, her gasp between kisses providing the perfect opportunity for him to sense the opening of her mouth and navigate his way in. Though unversed in this particular field, his prowess all but disparaging. He could likely adapt to any kind of situation presented to him swiftly, including this. He smirked slightly at the thought and brought her closer, intent on tasting every bit of her there was.

The sweet tang of caramel milk tea that she ordered that afternoon invaded his senses as he prodded her upper caverns and explored her crevices; faintly curious at how the taste could have lingered for so long. His unbidden tongue glided across hers in a passionate fervor as she eagerly returned the favor, both locking in a fervent dance to a frenetic rhythm, along with the occasional tweak and nibbling.

Just when he was about to lose himself in the kiss, he felt her hands, which was previously encircled around his neck, start to probe his clothing. He froze.

She wasn't actually thinking of going further.

With a sharp inhale to quell his raging hormones, he caught her wrists and pulled away.

"Wait," He looked away, suddenly very embarrassed, the scandalous nature of his actions sinking in. Spirits, what has he been doing? "I don't think we should be doing this. What about your boyfriend?"

All was quiet. When he dared himself to look at her, she looked... absolutely broken. Her body spoke volumes; her shoulder sagged, face paled, and it seemed life itself deserted her. Something told him he had hit a sore subject, and it became obvious to him that all of this was because of the infamous boyfriend.

He knew he wasn't going to get an answer from her. He had tried, but it was obvious she didn't want to talk. Then again, if it just happened, like the night before, he wouldn't have expected her to. He understood that talking about it would only encourage her breakdown. And the last thing she needed was further disintegration.

He knew that if she were in her right frame of mind, what they were doing now wouldn't have happened; the possibility of it simply wouldn't exist. She was too overcome by bereavement by whatever had plagued her the other day that she was blindly turning to any method of reprieve, anything to get her mind off that tragedy. And she was using him for it.

He knew he should be offended that he meant so little to her. But it surprised him to know that he wasn't. When could he find someone like her again? Never. No one had ever treated him like she did; no one had ever gathered him into their arms and held them for that was worth. But she was. She was there for him. She embraced him, with all of his flaws and scars, his temper and ill-mannerisms. She knew his pain, she understood, she was genuine. If he could at least mean something to her, even if only just a little, it would be better than nothing.

He was absolutely willing to do anything for her to make her happy. If he couldn't make her talk, the least he could do was appease her. He was treading on a primrose path, yet he couldn't care less.

Her happiness was his first priority.

She continued on, despite the half-baked thoughts in his head finally coming to a solution. Her voice was subdued, but there was no mistaking the sheer desperation in it. "Please…don't make me beg. Don't make me into more of the pathetic wench than I already am. I can't help deciding things with my own body without any regards to my self-esteem, and I don't care if you think-"

His blood seemed to halt, and his heart gave one large thud before everything went still, like the calm before the storm. What did she just say? Did she just refer to herself as a _prostitute_?

The rest of her rambling went unregistered as the impact of her words finally settled in him. All of a sudden, he was shaking. Not from fear, but from indignation. A deep fury manifested itself in him and it was all it took for him to shove her down and pin her hands above her head, breaking her off with a surprised yelp.

He towered above her, staring down on her and taking heavy breaths as if to calm himself, vaguely noticing the flush clouding her cheeks as she looked back at him, bewildered and vulnerable. He absolutely refused to see her condemn herself to something of such low worth.

She was so much more than that, couldn't she see how he held her in such high regard?

Couldn't she see with what she had just said hurt him to no end?

"You," He exhaled between clenched teeth, and brought his head closer to her with every word. "Are. Not. A. _Prostitute_. Don't ever say that about yourself." He ended with his mouth just barely grazing her left ear, to get the point through. He pulled back. "And… don't regret this."

Before she could reply, he lunged and captured her lips with his, a needy desire building in his tightly conformed body. He could no longer feel anything else as his pulse thundered through his entire body, setting it ablaze with the untamed fire he had been struggling to hold in all this time, finally willing to set it loose.

He was willing to give it all to her. Offer himself as a whole. She had him in the palm of her hands and it was up to her how she wanted to deal with him; whether she wanted to stroke his heart or crush it between those long, sinewy fingers.

Making full use of his tongue, he licked her across her lips, aiming for that particular slit where he could enter. Either her reaction was too slow, or he was too impatient as he forced his tongue through and once again tasted the idyll that was her mouth. The ferocity of him left her whimpering, and he took that as a cue to move to her chin, his lips grazing them lightly.

Using his hand to tilt her head, he proceeded to leave a trail of kisses up to her jaw, ending up at a spot just below her ears where his tongue massaged and sucked fervently. Her gasps grew more frequent and he felt her fist his clothes in a death grip. Before long, he found that special, sensitive spot and focused his small ministrations there, wanting to elicit more of her vivifying moans and shuddering.

His hand previously occupying the side of her head moved up to cradle her head and the other roamed down to meet the edges of her robe. He made to unfasten them, but before he could do so, he felt his hand being yanked away. Surprised, he began to wonder if he did something wrong but grinned in relief when he saw her feverishly undo her own cords and guide his hand back to her.

Feeling around the now loose fabric, he tugged it open, and it fell limply to her sides.

He took a sharp intake of breath by what he saw before him. This is what he had been afraid of dreaming of, deeming it forbidden, but he knew it was there. And this is what he got.

Her body lay in front of him, unadorned in all its glory for his eyes to feed on. The maelstrom in his heart sought to devour him whole as he took in the rich, dark plane of skin that mounded into two equally stunning breasts whose nipples of a darker, more enticing shape stood erect on both apexes, inviting him to immerse his head between them and feel the texture against his skin, willing to suffocate for the pleasure of it. His gaze followed the skin down to a finely sculpted waist that fitted just right on her, molding into refined, slender thighs that he was sure if he parted just a fraction, it would shatter. She looked so fragile and delicate he couldn't bear to lay a finger on her, in fear of crumbling her like a porcelain doll.

He hadn't realized he had eyed her longer than she thought was normal and only realized it when she reached to cover herself, her face flushing crimson as she stuttered and tried to articulate words. He caught her, shaking his head subtly, and lowered his mouth to her ears, whispering: "You're _divine_."

Feeling her breath hitch from the compliment she obviously didn't see coming, he buried his head in her hair and smiled softly, letting the aquatic aroma and a hint of musk drift over his nostrils before resuming his kisses.

After coating her earlobe with his saliva, he let his tongue run down the expanse of her jaw down to her collarbone, taking his time to enjoy the sounds he wrung out of her. It stimulated and submerged him into overlapping of pleasure. He traced her shoulder blades with feather-light butterfly kisses, inching his way down, down to her chest.

She couldn't control the tides of pleasure he inflicted on her relentlessly. She could feel his hot breath on her breasts and her skin kicked into hypersensitivity and she tensed, feeling every nerve and sensor on alert. Every little touch, even a slight brush of him sent up flares on her skin, tingling her all over. Before she had time to catch her breath, he cupped one with her hand and slowly kneaded it, his thumb making even tinier circles near the crown of her mound. She hissed in ecstasy as he lowered himself and took the other into his mouth, kissing around the nipples gently before enveloping them whole.

A surge of white hot heat blinded her vision, filling up every part of her body. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't talk. He was too good, too gentle, and she wanted –no, she _needed_ more. There was no way she could hold on like this, with him teasing her so much. She craved him, she needed more than his slow, sensual touches, she lusted for aggression, she needed him to –before she could—it was coming so soon, too soon, any moment—

Moaning, she clawed at him, pulling him up to her, frantically calling his name over and over as she felt herself loosen up, her thighs slick with release. "Zuko!"

He took a moment to process what happened.

His name.

She had cried out _his name_.

Not her boyfriend's.

_**His name**_.

Thrilled, he continued tracing his fingers south, letting them dance over the smooth expanse of her skin during the time her entire frame heaved up and down from shortness of breath and exhilaration. Every so often he would nibble a piece of her; wandering from the outline of her ribs to her belly button and the curve of her hips.

The liquid coating her nether regions was slick, and he let his hands reach the opening of her thighs and part them open, slipping just a bit. He still couldn't get over the fear of opening her too much, afraid that she'd break in half.

His face burned as he took in the lushness that was her vagina. It was terribly inviting and he found himself biting back his lips in order to catch himself from ravaging her entirely. Catching her eye, she gave a tentative nod, and that was all the permission he needed before smiling and taking her hands, kissing her knuckles in turn. Then he dipped his head down between her thighs.

Her eyes rolled back in blissful rapture as he placed his mouth on her clit and gave her an experimental lick. The reaction was instantaneous as she arched above the bed, her hands the only thing anchoring her to the bed. He smirked and plunged into her folding, made easier with her grinding her hips towards him in reflex.

She felt his touches transforming her, clouding her hazy mind with his name only, losing count of how much she cried it out like a prayer, in that single word alone portrayed constant pleading and begging for him, him, _him_. His name became a mantra her mouth had chosen to recite over and over again, regardless of it beginning to put a strain on her voice. Her throat began to throb, but it was nothing compared to the rapture he had incited within her.

His tongue began stirring in her insides, prodding and nipping his way through her ridges and breathing in her at the same time, making her squirm to no end. How he managed to spread spasms throughout her entire body by just concentrating on one area eluded her.

He could feel her starting to build up again, the way her body jolted every now and then as he sucked and massaged her already swollen clit. There was no gentle, merciful Zuko now. She had brought out the demon in him, and he was intent on bringing her to the brink of delirium.

It was too much. She couldn't breathe. Her agape mouth unable to form words as her vision went white. Her entire body went rigid, forced over its limits. Her knuckles were white with strain, and she was immobilized. He was giving her too much to take in; never had she expected such ferocity out of the quiet man.

For a moment, he held his breath. Had he been too rough on her? At times like these he cursed his lack of experience and his inability to control himself when he got too carried away. But then her eyes fluttered as she managed to take in a shuddering breath, and from there he knew she was coming back to reality. His eyes swept over her body once more, and he couldn't help but worship it, reveling in the fact that he had placed his mark on every part of her.

Wiping his mouth, he slowly assumed a kneeling position, forming an arc over her and going up to kiss her forehead with a tenderness that contrasted his previous fire. He pecked her temples, her nose, and her cheeks, all the while letting her recover. Then, akin to the princes in fairy tales, he crouched over her and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, bringing his princess back to life.

Her eyes were half-lidded and in them he could see unyielding desire. Her blatant yearning for him ignited his own intent to state his feelings for her, but he bit them back. He didn't know what benefit it brought him to hold back, now that he stole her innocence away from her boyfriend. Yet he still couldn't bring himself to say it. It felt forbidden.

His golden irises widened as she suddenly grabbed his collar and pulled him down into a heated kiss. Apparently, she wasn't done with him yet. With strength unbeknownst to him, she gripped the back of his neck and turned him around with a force that had him pressed against the headboard of his bed in a span of two seconds. Bewildered, he could only watch as she proceeded to straddle him and unbutton his shirt. Not long after, his shirt joined hers on the ground, revealing his own toned musculature.

He could see her admiring him for a moment before running her hands down his midsection, savoring the dips and cupped his appendage, her lips occupying itself by tracing down his jaw to his neck, biting the soft skin of muscle there where the pulse was located. It thrummed under her teeth, and she swirled her tongue over it, sucking and nipping until it was swollen red.

Satisfied at him trying to hold back his gratification, she adjusted her position on him, determined to get more out of him. His slacks tightened more in response, pain evident as he struggled to say her name, his voice low and husky. "K-Katara…"

"Take me, Zuko." Her breath tickled in his ears. "You can't stop now."

What lax he exuded earlier vanished as he unceremoniously threw her off him and flipped her around, switching their position once again. Taking advantage of her surprise, he took off his pants, throwing them to the carpet and took his position, letting his carnal side get the best of him.

He didn't let her see his painfully erect length as he rested the head on the tip of her lubricated opening. Slowly, he glided into her, earning a soft gasp before he settled in her comfortably. The muscles surrounding him bunched together in response, and she circled her arms around his neck, resuming her work. He took this as a cue to thrust in deeper. As if by instinct, he pulled himself slightly out before repeating it, the awkward and choppy thrusts slowly catching into a rhythm with the pounding of her hips.

As he got the hang of it, he let his hands wander from gripping her waist for leverage to exploring her frame once again; he could never get enough of her. He did everything to get her to call for him between her moans. _Zuko_, _Zuko_. It sounded so right when she said it, so beautiful and bewitching to the ears.

Before long, he found himself pounding harder into her, fulfilling his growing desire. With each stroke, she whimpered louder, and served as a fuel for him to go faster. Every thrust, every stroke sent searing, white-hot sensations up his body, stoking the fire to his blistering conscious. His eyes were shut, face buried in her collarbone to muffle his grunts and he grimaced when he felt her nails dig into him. By this point, he could no longer tell the difference between pain and pleasure, both already mixed with the other so deep.

After what felt like an hour, she went rigid once again, coming close to her limit. He delivered a few more thrusts, not quite coming to his yet. Her limbs shook and her body lifted, her head thrown back, her lips forming in a soundless scream. After one final shudder, they both embraced the sensuous elation of climax and he collapsed breathlessly on top of her, her arms tangled over his neck.

He rolled over to his side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. He could hear her giggling as she rolled to him and planted a kiss on his cheeks and curled up to him.

This was it. There was no way he could hide it now.

Just as he was about to declare his feelings to the woman beside him, he turned to find her already deep in slumber.

oOo

Zuko didn't feel right. Sure, having Katara right next to him was the best thing that could have ever happened to him, but this feeling was different.

He was feeling more insecure than ever, the pieces of the puzzle scattering farther rather than falling into place. It was strangely unnerving.

When he saw the pitch-black sky brighten with the first strokes of daylight, a part of him feverishly hoping that what happened the other night was just a dream. He didn't want to deal with the aftermath of such actions, if it truly happened. He couldn't trust himself to make the right decision.

Reality dropped on him like a boulder when he caught sight of the Water Tribe citizen sound asleep next to him, her breath tickling his neck and an arm draped lazily over his abdomen. She was unclothed, save for the thick covers pulled up to cover her necessary parts.

Everything was real. It wasn't a dream.

He saw it coming, but dreaded it anyway. He knew he couldn't hold this back. Now he couldn't help falling even harder for her.

He knew this was futile, that he was resigning himself to impending ruin. He should have been content with watching her from afar, but he just pounce on the chance she had presented to him like a rabid dog. What good did this interim rapture bring him, if it was only the overture to more anguish and desolation?

It was nice to wake up to a woman he loved next to him. But that was it. He could only love her. It was a certain love that would not prevail, an affliction fated to be just that. He would only be left hoping for something that would most certainly not be granted.

He could only stare at her, never truly touch her and embrace her into his arms, knowing that she belonged to someone else.

He ripped off the blanket coating him and made his way to the bathroom. He didn't spare a glance back to her; he couldn't. It stung.

It stung like the cold water that hailed on him in a relentless barrage, pelting him with torrent after torrent of cold truth, waking him up to the crashing waves of actuality.

Once out of the bathroom, he went straight to packing, solely thinking of his flight back home, ignoring the soft snores of a delicate young woman curled up on his bed.

A few hours later, with most of his clothes folded and belongings organized, he remembered the last thing he needed to do before leaving Ba Sing Se. He was reaching for his wallet next to the bed when she stirred from her sleep.

She sat up slowly, pulling up the sheets with her, frame basking against the soft light of the sun streaming in pastel shades behind her, defining her curves in ornate motifs.

Tenderly, she smiled, her voice dulcet with the soft exhale of breath escaping from the slight opening of her lips. "Hey."

No, he couldn't let it show.

He smiled back, praying it at least looked sincere. It wasn't so hard to pull off, since it was directed to her. "Hey."

Silence.

Her discerning orbs seemed to pierce through his defenses the longer they occupied his.

He felt his resolve melting under the heat of her scrutiny. The urge came out of nowhere as he went to the bed and sat down carefully on the edge, a sense of conservation washing over him. He didn't know how she would take what he was about to say next, after all. If she rejected him…then it would just confirm his suspicions.

It didn't help that he still felt a stirring of hope that maybe –just _maybe_ she might recipocrate.

She eyed him curiously. Swallowing, he slowly brought a hand to her cheek, gathering his willpower and forced himself to hold her eye contact steady.

"I love you."

As soon as the words left him, her eyes widened and he was too panicked to decipher the meaning behind them. It left him feeling ridiculous.

Tearing away his gaze, he could feel a blush overflow his face. It was too late to go back on his words now. It was out in the open, and now he was completely at her mercy. "I know it's absurd since we've only just met three nights ago..." He faltered before forcing himself to meet her eyes again.

"But you made me feel things that I've never felt, that no one else had ever made me feel." He could see her averting her gaze by that sentence. Quickly, he added, "And I'm not talking about last night."

She still refused to look at him, a red tint starting to form on her cheeks. What did she make of this?

Suddenly his heart began to suffocate him with its hammering and he wanted nothing else than for her to just do something, rather than leaving him hanging like this. It wasn't that he expected her to accept, but anything would be better than this suspense.

After what seemed like ages, she inhaled, deep and slow, as if letting the air in to fill her entire body. Ducking her head, she formed a sheepish smile. It was time. He could spite and leave her, and she would understand entirely. "I guess... I do owe you an explanation now."

She shifted on the bed, leaving a very stupefied Zuko to follow her movements as she reached past him for the purse lying beside the bedpost. Reaching into it, she fished out a piece of white ribbon made of silk, letting it dangle from her hand before flashing it to him.

She laid it flat on her palm, the shape and pattern emblazoned on the pendant that dangled from it was painfully commonplace. It was a custom reserved for native Water Tribe people, but he was aware of what it was. He clenched his jaw, putting two and two together.

It was a betrothal necklace.

It wasn't so hard to figure out who had presented it to her.

"Something happened between me and... Aang, my boyfriend...yesterday." She started hesitantly, fingering the pendant nervously. "I didn't get any calls or texts from in the past two days we had the fi— misunderstanding. I told my friend about it and she invited me to come over for… you know, girls talk. So I went there, and apparently, she had told Aang I would be there without my knowing so he came to pick me up that afternoon. I was surprised, angry and hurt that they would plot this behind my back but I went with him, anyway. I wanted to know what he had to say."

She closed her eyes, feeling herself being pulled back in time. The memory was fresh, as if it had happened just a few moments before.

"Will you please talk to me, Katara?" He had pleaded to her for the umpteenth time, his eyes flickering back and forth between the road in front of him and the passenger who was currently giving him the cold shoulder.

She stayed quiet, refusing to acknowledge him due to the recent treachery he had been involved in, regardless of its triviality. She stared at the buildings that whizzed past them as if it were the most interesting phenomenon that ever occurred to her.

All if a sudden, her body was thrown forward, nearly crashing into the dashboard if she hadn't been held back by her seat belt. The sound of wheels screeching tore through her defenses. Gasping, she frantically looked to her surroundings, a surge of panic washing over her like a tide. What had just happened?

The street was clear and no car was in sight, except for one behind them, who had begun honking angrily at their abrupt halt, accompanied by articulate curses and shouting. No pedestrian was crossing the street and they weren't in an intersection. All was clear.

Fuming, she whipped her head to face the man next to her, whose foot was still placed calmly on the brakes. "What the hell, Aang? Are you trying to get us killed?" Her voice had upped a notch, and she was nearly shouting.

His response to her outburst wasn't anything like she imagined. Instead of being apologetic or frightened, or anything to denote a sense of wrongness, he was smiling. And a rather triumphant one, at that.

She felt her temper boil as she prepared herself for another bout of thrashing. Had he legitimately lost his mind? "What? Do you think this is funny?"

With a degree of leisure that was entirely inappropriate from a life-or-death situation, he lifted his foot almost lazily from the brakes and pressed on the accelerator, urging the car forward from its immobile state. "You talked."

She avidly wondered why she hadn't broken up with this puerile juvenile already.

They slowly pulled up in front of a house; a rather large one, not much different with the other houses in the upper tier of Ba Sing Se, yet the light blue paint coupled with dark gray roofs stood out from the cluster of monotonous, broken white and ginger colored roofs. In addition to the quirk, a gigantic moon peach tree towered beside the porch, bearing the favorite fruit of one person she knew so dearly loved. It was unmistakable.

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Why are we at Sokka's place? You aren't telling on me, are you? Don't you dare bring my brother into our problem!" She snapped, but he ignored her as he got out of the car and weaved his way to her door to open it.

"You'll see, Katara." He offered his hand, almost as a peace offering. "Trust me, okay?"

She wanted to insist on learning more. What other reason had he to bring her here? There was no other reason to come here, no special occasion or holiday, nothing. He was hiding so many secrets and owed her too many explanations. He was making it significantly hard for her to trust him, but she knew she still wanted to. She still wanted to trust him, to take his outstretched hand and let him guide her out to do whatever he wanted to do and get this over with. She was tired of being at odds with him, tired of dwelling on their problems because it was nothing new.

Yet, held back by a sense of recalcitrant pride, she crossed her arms instead. She would not allow this guy to do whatever he pleased with her. At least she'd have the pleasure of not making things easy for him, just as he had with her a few days ago.

But this was Aang, and turtle seals would run before he ever gave in. Taking her wrist, he gently tugged her out of the car, and she had no choice but to comply, albeit with great reluctance.

She knew something was very strange was brewing from the atmosphere that surrounded her the minute she stepped into the house. For one, it wasn't only Sokka and his wife, Suki, greeting her in the living room, but also her whole family.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of her father and Gran-gran sitting together on the couch, standing up as they saw her, with Hakoda helping the elder woman to her feet.

"Dad? Gran-gran?" She repeated in slight disbelief, a part of her elated yet wary of just running up and hugging them both. "What are you doing here?" Aang must have something to do with this. Feeling her previous indignation bubble up in her again, she whirled towards her accused boyfriend. "This is your doing, isn't it? You know my dad has work and Gran-gran is the mayor—"

"Katara," Hakoda briskly cut in. Mouth still open, she glanced at her father, whose sharp gaze seemed to bore into her. "You might want to sit for awhile and let the young man explain."

"But, Dad, he—"

"Katara." He said again, his glare hinting at finality. Defying him at that point would be like digging her own grave.

Scoffing, she stepped back and dropped to the nearest seat, crossing her legs. She glared expectantly at Aang. "Well? Explain, then."

A few seconds passed and no one spoke. The young man bit his lip and scratched the back of his head, letting his gaze dart to the floor, his voice sheepish and timid. "Er…I don't…I don't know how to start…" Katara rolled her eyes by his gauche admission.

"Let me help with that!" Sokka voiced in restively, apparently irritated by his ineptitude as well. The difference was he knew something she didn't. Katara turned towards him, urging him to continue.

"So, two nights ago, your boyfriend came here, at around midnight. Can you imagine that? I mean, who in their right mind would come barging in at someone's house without a moment's notice—" He stopped rambling as soon as he caught Suki glaring at him. "Well, anyway, I was having this really philosophical dream about seal jerky when he began telling me what happened lately between you guys. And so yeah, I told him that he was being a jerk and all of the other things you would say to him, no need to worry about that. And since I'm such a loving and enthusiastic older brother who cares for his baby sister, I was just prepping myself up to endow upon him the knowledge to woo you back to him but it turned out he was just asking for Dad and Gran-gran's address back in the South Pole. Really, I thought he would have known by now since he knows practically _everything _about you, like the time he surprised you with that low-cut, skin-tight polar dress you've always wanted for your birthday that would have been impossible for you to wear unless it exactly matched your measurements—"

"Sokka!" Her face heated up as that particular incident jumped to mind. She had been so thrown off track by his most recent turn from the topic that she couldn't cut him off sooner, and she could only shoot him her most murderous glare that promised a slow death as Hakoda and Kana started giving her fascinated looks.

"He has something in mind, that's for sure. He promised me that this had something to do with fixing this tiff between the two of you, and I'm sure holding him to it. I told him if it somehow made things worse –made you cry or hurt you in any way possible, I would castrate—_oof_!" He was met with a sharp elbow to his gut from his wife.

Thankfully, Hakoda had the decency to take the reign from his son. "The first thing I found the next morning when I wanted to grab the newspaper was this young man in front of my doorstep." He gestured to Aang, who grinned despite feeling very self-conscious.

He blushed as he saw Katara look at him, her hardened features softened from the assertion. "I…took a plane to the South Pole the night I came to apologize to your father." He looked away, embarrassed.

She blinked. Now she knew why she didn't receive any texts or calls from him on Wednesday. She thought he was being ignorant as usual.

But she still wasn't ready to admit her faults yet. "Okay, so you were being ridiculously irrational and went all the way to the South Pole and earned my dad's forgiveness. I still don't understand why you had to bring them all the way here."

"In the evening, he was at my door." Kanna piped in, smiling warmly at Aang, who was sitting across from her.

"He invited us here for a very special occasion, Katara." Hakoda continued, his face bright. "I even took a sabbatical leave for this."

Seeing her granddaughter's confusion etched clearly on her face, Kana chuckled quietly, deciding to torment her no longer, since the young man seemed too overwrought to bring it up himself. "We weren't going to miss my own granddaughter's engagement."

Katara's jaws dropped.

_Engagement_?

Flabbergasted, she looked ahead as all of a sudden Aang had moved closer and stopped right in front of her before falling to one knee.

She couldn't believe this was happening. How did it turn out like this? One minute, they were fighting, and she was angry, and all of a sudden, now…

Her hands were feeble as she felt him take one of them into his hands, squeezing it softly. She could only stare at it uncomprehendingly.

It all seemed like a dream when he looked up at her with those swirling silvery-grey eyes of his, entrancing her. They looked different, more mature somehow. It held a gaze filled with countless years of experience, even though he was only twenty**. **She never realized. He was too often away than with her that she was unable to see the transition between the childish Aang she had known all her life and this new, more refined, sensible Aang. Even the posture he assumed now seemed regal.

Just a few moments ago, he was still acting so very immature. Where had that gone? How had he grown up so much that he was already considering an engagement?

It all began to click. She had been left behind in the past. Everyone else was moving forward, embracing the roles that they had carved for themselves while she was still viewing everyone the same way as they were before. Aang was no longer the boy she thought he was. He had grown, and so should she.

"Katara," He began. His voice steady and solemn. "I am truly sorry for having disgraced you and your father. I admit to being foolish to put up work when it is clear you are much more important than that. I should have known better, and I regret it more than anything. I want nothing more than to have your forgiveness. I can't afford to lose you; I love you too much for that." Not once did he look away.

She couldn't even think of opening her mouth to answer him before he let one of his hands wander to his backpocket and retrieve a tiny, velvet box the color of rich ultramarine.

Her heart stopped. "Oh…oh my gosh." She brought her hand to her chest, and the other to cover her mouth, and her deeply coloring face. Everyone was here, everyone was watching, and Aang…the jerk…

The adorable jerk…

"Katara," He began to unravel the object inside. A gemstone began to peek out, an iridescent glow of pure silver and topaz catching her breath. For a single breathless moment, it reminded her of the eyes of a young man she found to be idiosyncratic, and she quickly recognized the intricate carving of swirling waves that orbited the stone's circular edge; reminiscent of the necklace handed down to her through the generations. The waves were linked to each other, united in an endless circlet. Though the edge of the pendant was ornately designed, it was the heart of the pendant that ignited feelings in her that would have flooded that instant if she hadn't been smothering it.

A single gem, so bright, so yellow, so pure and lustrous, glistening for all his chaste feelings encompassed within, the beauty of his prudent love that he managed to embody within a matrix of promise.

"Will you marry me?"

Before she knew it, her vision went blurry, and any feelings of resentment she had harbored towards him was swept away like the river currents breaking through her every defense. She didn't think it possible to be able to feel this kind of happiness that seemed to transcend above all that had brought her joy to this day. Sweeping her gaze across the room to the other members of her family and seeing them all mouth agreement and excited nods, she turned back to Aang.

A long moment seemed to pass before Katara made her decision, with all eyes on her.

"Yes."

It was a small, tiny whisper that was easily lost in the thick atmosphere of suspense that surrounded them. No one was budging, either not hearing her near-inaudible voice or unsure if they were hearing right. Aang was staring right at her, uncomprehending, his eyes wide and deadly curious.

A full-fledged smile slowly bloomed on her face. "Yes, Aang. I will marry you." Her voice was louder and straining with joy as she pulled him up with her, and the room burst into rambunctious cheering.

The air was mixed with heartfelt applauding and teary exchanges as they surged around her, their congratulations lost in a flurry of words and hugging.

He looked positively ecstatic, and it seemed obvious he wanted to attack her and crush her in his embrace. But he maintained his cool posture and only grinned as he waited for the crowd to clear before taking the topaz pendant out of the box and circling around her to fasten it around her neck.

The cool stone of the pendant resting slightly above her collarbone seemed unreal to her, and she reached up to finger it. It was real and smooth. It was there, and it was reality. Pure joy radiated on her face as she turned to face the flourished, profound young man that seemed to shine like the brightest star in her universe at the moment.

"Aang, I…" The stricken young woman trailed off as she could only look at Aang, who brushed away a strand of her hair fallen out of place and pressed a soft, chaste kiss on her lips before facing the rest of Katara's and his soon-to-be relatives. Grinning widely, he bowed, a deep arc that signified his deepest gratitude.

Remembering what had transpired between them that day brought tears to her eyes again, although it shocked her to know it was now accompanied by a sting of hurt.

Zuko looked as if he had been slapped; he was frozen in place and was making a point to look anywhere else but her. A hail of arrows felt like it had permanently lodged itself in his chest as he strove to make sense of what she had told him. Not that he had been expecting anything otherwise, but it still pained him to have his speculations confirmed. It should have been better off left unsaid.

He gritted his teeth in an attempt to hold back anything that might slip through him. He didn't trust himself to make a comment. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure if he even had anything to say.

She felt like the vilest creature alive. "It was then that evening when I realized something. I had been too carried away in the significance and atmosphere of the event that it came to me too late. When I was told to organize the guest list for our wedding, the first person that came to mind was you, Zuko. The moment I remembered you, I…" She inhaled a sharp breath, looking pointedly at the window beside her, remembering the rush of emotions that had flooded her the instant she was reminded of the scarred, handsome young man with the striking gold eyes. "…I began to doubt myself. I began to doubt the entire thing. I'm horrible, I know. If I had thought about it better, if I hadn't just gone ahead and accepted Aang's proposal and had more time to think it through…" Her eyes watered as she looked at him again.

"If only I hadn't met you, Zuko. Things wouldn't be this complicated. I wouldn't be having these strange feelings for you whenever I think of you. I don't know what's gotten into me. It's ridiculous, having only met you for three days…" She finally trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

The gears in his head moved so painstakingly slow, as if it were rusting. "So I take it you're confused." His voice was low, like a snake coiling to strike.

"To be honest…" She breathed, aware of the change in his tone. "Yes. And I don't know how to deal with this."

Whatever expression she had seen on him seemed to melt away, a stony expression in its place. Or at least, that was what it seemed. She was never able to decipher what he was actually feeling behind his façade, the ultimate mystery to his appeal that initially drew her in.

"So you were looking for a rebound." His voice was cautious, as though picking its way through the illusive mines dotting the ground.

There was a moment of silence before her hand developed a will of its own, reaching towards his face, dropping it to his shoulder at the last minute. "No. I was looking for _you_."

He looked away.

"This isn't getting any clearer." He whispered, his voice even lower than before, a rasp creeping into it.

"I did that because I wanted to, Zuko. I wanted to sort out how I felt for you and Aang. And for whatever reason I thought that I might get an answer out of this, it isn't working. But I can't deny this major part of me that's practically _screaming _to be with you, and I just had to have this…with you. Before you left. This could very well be our last time together. That's why I had to look for you, because somehow I couldn't accept that this was as far as we could go."

Her voice had risen with each sentence, and he could see the turmoil revolving, twisting, thrashing in those deep-set blue eyes like raging water. He wanted nothing more than to swallow her in his embrace, rid her of her insecurities, kiss her confusion away. He yearned to give her the right answer that somehow involved having him in her life. Having her for himself. There was nothing holding him back from following his inner desires and compel her to leave Aang for him, to cancel the engagement and burn the pendant she was holding to a crisp.

But he couldn't. There was no way he could make her leave the one who cared for her the most, who Aang loved for far longer than he. He couldn't be that heartless, to rip away what was meant to be. He would be no better than his father.

If he was only meant to be a stumbling block in her life, then it wouldn't get any farther than that. His purpose was to lead her back to the right direction, to remove himself from the equation so her happiness would be ensured. He hadn't missed the small flicker of raw joy in her voice and the way her eyes lit up, however slight it had been, when she told him of her engagement.

Carefully, he removed his static mask with a tentative smile. "Listen."

She was silently weeping as he made to brush her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears. "_I love you_. But I'm not demanding you to return it."

Even though there was nothing more he wanted than her to requite his feelings for her.

He lifted her chin with slightly trembling fingers he desperately tried to hide. "Aang…is a great guy."

Even though he wanted nothing more than to hate the guy.

He brought her face closer so their foreheads touched, her scent and tears, mixing with his. "Don't risk it for me. You deserve nothing but happiness and I know you'll find it with him."

Even though he wanted nothing more than to give her that happiness.

His voice was steady, but he wasn't sure if he looked as convincing as he wanted to. His emotions were boiling and restless inside him and that itself took a lot of effort to quell. He was slowly working his way into the hole he had dug for himself from the beginning, and there was no way to go back up.

He was such a hypocrite.

Regardless of his expression, she nodded, as if trying to understand him. He knew she didn't, but chose not to show it nonetheless.

"You're going to have to tell Aang about this." He gestured between them. "About us. He deserves to know. Judging from what you told me about him, he would understand. He sounds like a reliable man." There was only so much lying he could take. This was more than enough.

Without waiting for a response –he wasn't sure if he could bear to listen to her reply– he moved to the entryway with the intent of putting on his shoes. He wasted enough time.

Seeing that she wasn't moving, and didn't seem as if she wanted to, he sighed. "You can stay for as long as you like. I'll be back around noon, alright? If you're leaving, just lock the door behind you when you go out." He earned an absentminded nod to that, and stepped out.

Outside, in the hallway, he leaned against the door. He needed to catch his breath. The stifling atmosphere was now behind him, and there was nothing holding him back as he crumpled to his knees, his face in his hands, silent sobs wracking his entire frame.

Never had he felt so tormented in his life. The infernal beating his father burned into him was nothing compared to this purgatory.

Perhaps he was wrong about his lucky number. Seven was nothing special. He was being too superstitious, putting too much belief in something that was never actually there. In the end, seven would just be another number.

His seven homeruns in the little league baseball didn't matter, since his team lost anyway.

He was nominated as student president in seventh grade, but he didn't end up assuming the position.

His sister's birthday was also on the same day, July 7th, and she was given a Porsche. A 911 Carrera S.

He got the scar on March 7th, ten years ago, when he lost his mother.

His father's efforts to oust him as the seventh in line was evident in favor for his sister who displayed a talent of prodigy in the solvent world of business.

In addition to his collection of the numerous encounters with number seven, he had sex with a girl he loved yet could never be his on March 7th.

Seven was definitely not his lucky number.

**Phew! This is our first time writing a smut scene. I hope we didn't fail.**

**Despite everything that happened in this story, seven is actually **_**my **_**lucky number, and that's one of the inspirations in writing this chapter. So, I hope I'm getting some more reviews regarding to this chapter. :D**


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